I could kill the Candy Man

I could make a master plan

I could steal his Mary Janes

I could break his candy canes

I could give him one last wish

Then trade his soul for licorice

I could kill the Candy Man

I could make a master plan

I could bite his lollipops

I could melt his sugar drops

I could give him one last dish

Then trade him whole for Swedish Fish

His sparkly chain danced back and forth against his crisp t-shirt as he walked swiftly towards one of the victims. He halted and stood still there next to the frantic woman. I squinted my eyes in the direction of his sunglasses combined with the rim of his hat, trying to make out the eyes behind them. I couldn’t see them but I knew he was looking at me. The slight grin at the corners of his lips gave him away. Tragedy was all around us and the fire was growing and traveling through rooms, memories and to the houses on either side of it. But only as I peered into the darkness of his sunglasses could I feel a single spark.

Even with all the chaos, I still couldn’t take my eyes off him. I followed his moves as he went to each person asking how he could help, grabbing their things and helping them to safety. I wondered what his name was and why he was there. I felt the guilt of being human wash over me. People were losing their homes right in front of my eyes and all I could focus on was my attraction.

The fire was wild and insatiable now. It started on the third floor of the three-family house moving its way down to devour the two floors below it. But it wasn’t satisfied with that, it grew rapidly and out of control expanding from its center and attaching itself to the houses to the left and right of it. The blazes followed the power lines across the street to another home. I felt panic inside of me. I looked back to where my car was parked. It felt as though it could travel all the way down the street and burst at my toes.

The sirens were deafening as the second and third firetrucks pulled up. I’ve never seen humans move as fast as those firemen moved. I watched them disappear one by one into the smoke, losing count of how many there were after eight. They scattered to the houses attempting to contain the beastly fire. It was like watching someone enter a portal to another world. They were lost somewhere behind that smoke, on another plane of existence. I hoped they would make it back out on the other side, back to the world where I was standing.

There were people everywhere in the street, searching for a calm in the disarray. I wanted to sprint down the street, through the smoke to the other side of the neighborhood and make it to my apartment. My heart sank at the sight of a young teenage boy sitting on the curb. He clutched a laptop to his chest with tears streaming down his face. An older man and woman stood behind him. All three of them just stared in the direction of their burning home wearing expressions of disbelief. I stopped wanting to sprint but instead wished my arms were three feet long so I could hold them in for comfort. I moved my feet in their direction. I wanted to ask them if they were okay. I wanted to ask what they needed. I wanted to give that teenage boy and his family everything I owned. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the man with the sparkly chain. He smiled at me as if to say, “I got this” and made his way over to the young man and his family. He sat down on the curb next to him. I felt my sadness release. There was something so comforting about this man.

Roses are red

On the vines up ahead

Violets are blue

From the ground which they grew

Roses are red

As the blood that you shed

Violets are blue

Not entirely true

Roses are red

Like a soft velvet thread

Violets are blue

Yet, more lavender hue

Hartford, Hartford, pause this breeze

Your merchants crawl on humble knees

Your clouds are made of smokey grime

A city built on stand still time

Hartford, Hartford, slow your speed

Your forests filled with hungry need

Your sounds are frayed by screaming cries

A pity are your blackened skies

Hartford, Hartford, hear this please

Your patrons poor with living fees

Your streets decayed from salty crime

A witty man can't find a dime

Hartford, Hartford, see our screed

Your buildings stand with shameful greed

Your fame destroyed by cultured lies

A gritty place of endless tries

April 22, 2017

~7:00 PM~

Dear Diary,

It’s only been twelve hours since the first moment I came face to face with the undead. But as my eyes trace the letters of my previous entry from last night, it’s clear even in this dim lighting, that I am not the same person.

No one is.

Most of us aren’t even people anymore and the memory of all that was of life and society, has diminished in a flash. The dreams and goals of yesterday are gone. Everything has been replaced with the need for survival.

Last night, I was clinking Martinis with my bestie over a job promotion and this morning I was bashing her head in to stop her from eating my brain. It was my first encounter with a zombie and my first kill, if you can call it that. But most importantly, she was my first loss. I have met and lost so many people in the last twelve hours, I’ve lost count.

I won’t count.

At 6:52 AM this morning EST, the sun rose on a zombie apocalypse and the world went crazy…

It seems that overnight, the bodies that laid lifeless in the cemeteries across the world, arose from their graves on a mission for human consumption. A mission that has grown more successful by the hour. Some of those that have fought to keep their brain have still come up scathed and go on to join their army. With a slight graze of teeth across the skin, the virus spreads through the human body, leaving nothing left but a hunger for human flesh. I watched it happen right in front of me.

I’ve spent the last few hours leading my own army. An army of those that have been lucky enough to stay alive, though I am not sure being alive is lucky now. I am not sure what we are even fighting for or how long we will be able to keep it up. Our plan is to find as many survivors as we can and continue to move forward across the state finding more. What we will do after that is unknown.

I would like to say that I am scared but when you face darkness of this kind, you just feel numb. Or maybe it is just that the fear is so constant that it normalizes, even in this short amount of time. I have yet to think about what tomorrow will bring and all the days after that.

I write this entry in the hopes that someone will be around to read it. That eventually, life will normalize and someone will be piecing it all together. Or maybe in hopes that I can one day come back and read it myself. Either way, there is some sort of solace in documenting the story of what has happened today.

I have written a thousand lines

but words will never be as true,

as they feel after I watch you.

I call you a valiant man

and oh my, what a gorgeous view,

of you with your dangerous crew.

My love letters are unfinished;

there is so much more to go through,

the pseudo-love I fell into.

A house stands upon a shady hill,

straight past the old rusty watermill.

It leans, sinking into the ground below,

left abandoned there...quite some time ago.

The porch is all rotted and covered in vine.

It is said that the rooftop is dripping with brine.

There are dark empty holes where the trees have all died,

I hear it is even more chilling, on the inside.

There's shadows that bleed, down the long winding halls ,

and deep spiraled scratches that cover the walls.

The only sounds you will hear are the shrilling screams,

of the freshly picked souls that hang from the beams.

They say late at night in the window glare,

a greyish pale figure will suddenly appear.

And sing a grim song of desperate lure

Drawing you nearer....and nearer, to the front door.

The howl of this haunting tune is sure to catch your appeal,

Frenzied and welcomed is what you will feel.

Until you climb your way to the top of the knoll,

And give the thirsty spirit all your control.

They say it lets you in as an invited guest,

Then hangs you from the ceiling along with the rest.

What it does next, well...I cannot say in detail.

For those that go in, don't live to tell the tale.

So, if you ever hear the dark hymn of the ghost,

calling outloud to the ones it wants most.

Please cover both ears, then run far away,

or in the hill house your soul will stay.