Grandfather's Shack
By: Timothy Law

I've always loved the beach. It's my safe haven, where I go whenever I'm afraid. My Grandfather had a shack on the beach which he gave to me when he passed. I remember it was a happy day of sadness when he passed to me the key.

I remember the laughter and joy from my childhood as I jumped amongst the waves and the thrill as they would time and time again crash over me and drag me under. I had not a care in the world then. Growing up I never grew out of that love for swimming, for the beach, for the sea.


That was then and this is now, the Halloween when the horror became real. The ground erupted and the dead returned in so many numbers, hundreds of thousands, all hungry, an unquenchable thirst.

So now I return to my safe place, my place of wonderful memories. For one last time I flee from the fear, the chaos, real life that seems so unreal. Now the wave is not one of water, it is death, and blood; the promise of oblivion. The dead seek life, and I cannot help but wonder am I the only one that still remains unfound. They will find me soon enough though; I cannot hide forever. So, I wait in the basement of my Grandfather's shack. When the wave crashes I know that I'll be ready. The shack smells of gas. I have a match in my hand, I'm ready to strike. When I go down I'll take them all with me.


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