Random Zombie Drabble

Thud. Thump. Thud. Thump. That was the sound of the undead’s hands as they slapped against the girl’s window. She was cowering in her closet, trying desperately not to hyperventilate. The zombie apocalypse she had been half-wanting and half-fearing was finally here.

She let out a yelp as she heard the weakened glass shatter. She looked around for something, anything that could be used as a weapon if the zombies got into her house, but all she could find was a ratty old copy of an R.L. Stine book, a half a dozen or so pairs of Converse, and-she was never more thankful to the Walking Dead for inspiring her-a baseball bat.   

Perfect. Sure, she had never been good at baseball, or any sport really, but hitting a groaning, grunting slab of rotten skin and bones had to be easier than hitting a tiny ball, right? At least, that’s what the girl told herself as she shouldered the baseball bat, exiting the closet.

Exactly two minutes later, she was groaning and grunting herself. Guess she wasn’t meant to be a baseball player (or alive) after all.