Happy Monday!
The holidays are in full swing here, which means my time is eaten up by Christmas recitals, visiting family and lots of shopping. SO! I am sharing an old short story of mine - I shared it last year, but since there are so many new faces here now, I thought I would share again!
Beneath the Mistletoe first appeared on my Wattpad profile a few years ago. I hope this charming little tale about the festive season with a dash of zombification pairs nicely for you with a glass of eggnog, a cozy blanket and treats!
Wishing you a very happy holiday season!
Beneath the Mistletoe
ONE
The nutcracker's face crumbled into ash as Holly watched the flames. The fire ate hungrily at what little kindling she had managed to gather -- a few damp frozen twigs, two chair legs and a couple decorations that had been gathering dust in the window of her Aunt Gem's house on Garden St. The cold this evening was already worse than last night. Or maybe it was her own loneliness that chilled her bones. She'd been by herself for almost a year now. She should have been used to it. She thought she was used to it -- night after night, having no one to talk to but the stars.
But tonight wasn't like those other nights.
Tonight was Christmas Eve.
Holly glanced out the grimy window, at Garden Street -- a dark, snow covered graveyard. A shadow of what it had been just a year ago. She could remember the white Christmas lights lining the eves troughs of every house -- all except Brian Foster's house at the end of the court, who considered white lights too "self important." His front lawn was a veritable carnival of blow up decorations -- an elf popping out of a Christmas tree, a dinosaur wearing a scarf, Santa in a race car. But Brian Foster's lawn was dark tonight, it's two foot blanket of sparkling snow pristine and undisturbed. Just like all the rest. No footprints anywhere. None but Holly's.
Holly poked at her little fire, glowing healthily in the middle of Aunt Gem's honeyed hardwood living room floor. Gem would have had a fit if she saw it. But Holly knew that wouldn't be happening. Aunt Gem was never coming back to Garden St. No one was coming back to Garden St. Not after what happened.
The tin of canned pears she'd scavenged from a house three blocks over was frozen. Gingerly, she placed it in the flames and watched the label bubble and blacken, peeling away from the metal in the heat. She wasn't sure why she bothered anymore. Eating. What was the point? She was a ghost now. Close to it, anyway. Cold and forgotten by the people that used to love her. She swallowed, trying not to think about them -- Mom and Aunt Gem. They'd cried, the day Holly was turned away. The swab test took only seconds to turn blue and the instant it did, their tears began to flow. They wailed and held each other, but refused to look at Holly. Refused to watch her walk out the gates of the Clean Refuse, passed the armed military personnel and watch towers that protected them all from the threat outside. As she walked away, listening to them cry, Holly knew that to Mom and Aunt Gem, she was dead already.
Holly's stomach grumbled and she sighed. She wasn't dead. Not yet. The hunger proved that much. She was still Holly, just Holly.
For now.
She went to the hall mirror -- this was the seventh check she'd done since noon. But she couldn't be too careful. Not today. It had been a year exactly. One whole year. Everyone knew that after contact, you only had a year before you stopped being you.
She pulled off her hat, her mitts, her scarf. The cold air bit at her fingers and she shivered. She leaned into the mirror and ran her hands along the side of her face, inspecting every millimeter. Blue veins - - that was supposed to be the first sign that the change had begun. When she was satisfied that there weren't any on her face, she gathered her dark brown hair and held it up, running her hands along her neck. She continued like this, slowly, methodically, gradually stripping off layer after layer of clothing until she'd inspected every inch of her body. She couldn't find a sign of the change anywhere. It still hadn't begun.
Relieved, she redressed quickly and returned to her seat on the floor in front of the fire.
Maybe it wouldn't happen, some part of her hoped. Maybe she wasn't really infected. She shook her head angrily, trying to shake the naive thought away. She'd made contact with the parasite. She could remember the exact moment, one year ago, when Chris Winters...
Holly growled, covering her head as if she could shield herself from the memory. She didn't like to think about Chris Winters anymore.
She grabbed a twig and poked at the can of pears, not sure how much longer it would need to thaw. Some feast, she thought miserably. What she wouldn't give for a bite of Aunt Gem's honey ham spread. Every Christmas Eve Aunt Gem would roast up the biggest honey ham she could find, and set out a buffet of cheese and buns and mustards for building sandwiches. Holly's mouth watered just thinking about it.
Last year's buffet had been Aunt Gem's best by far. Her friend Ronald, a butcher, brought a whole bunch of different kinds of sausages, while Brian Foster's new girlfriend who ran the Cupcake Stop downtown had brought all kinds of designer cookies. It was the most amazing spread of food Holly had ever seen. Thinking about it now, she wished she'd had more of it when she'd had the chance. But that night, Holly's nerves were so bad she didn't want a single bite.
"You'll never get him to notice you if you hide out in the kitchen all night," Aunt Gem had said, standing by the fridge, wiping her hands on her Christmas apron.
Holly remembered how she frowned. "Why did you invite him?"
"I didn't, you're mother did. Because she knows you're sweet on him."
Holly pulled her reindeer sweater up over her head, hiding her blushing cheeks. "Please don't ever say that again." It was too embarrassing to hear her secret said out loud by Aunt Gem. Too embarrassing to know that her secret hadn't been much of a secret from Mom.
"Holly!" Her mother burst into the kitchen, a particularly full and beautiful poinsettia in her arms -- a gift from the Winters. "Will you get out there please? Chris is standing all alone with nobody to talk to."
Holly could remember peaking out the kitchen door to the living room -- there, standing by himself in the same spot her little fire glowed now, was Chris Winters. Holly swallowed the surge of fluttering wings in her stomach. He wore a grey pea coat, a red and green plaid button up underneath, the buttons done up all the way to the top of the collar. His brown hair had been combed in that side swept way that made her want to run her fingers through it. He was holding a box, wrapped in silver wrapping, a navy blue bow tied around it.
"Go talk to him," her mother hissed, pushing her through the doorway so that she stumbled into the living room, nearly knocking over Aunt Gem's display table of nutcrackers.
Every head turned to stare at her, including Chris Winters'. He raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. Holly had wanted to die.
She cast a furious glare at her mother who mimed unzipping a jacket and none-too-subtly mouthed the word 'coat.'
Holly cleared her throat and held out her arms to Chris Winters. "Can I, uh, take your coat?"
"Cool," he said, shrugging it off and handing it to her. It smelled like pine needles. "Where can I, uh..." He held up the little gift awkwardly.
"Oh, who's it for?"
"Your Aunt I guess. I dunno, its for the party. From my mom's shop."
Holly could remember it so vividly, taking the little silver package from Chris Winters -- the foil wrapping was cold from being outside and chilled her fingers. She could remember the sound it made as it crinkled when she touched it -- and the feathery brush of Chris Winter's hand grazing hers as he passed the parcel to her.
Holly felt the flutter in her gut now, alone on the floor of Aunt Gem's living room, as strong as she had that moment one year ago today. And it made her want to scream.
She shouldn't have thought about it. Shouldn't have let herself remember. Shouldn't have let his face back inside her head. Shouldn't have thought about that package.
Furious, she kicked her foot into the fire, sending the can of pears rolling across the hardwood. She watched it go, coming to a stop by the front window.
Go get it, she told herself. You have to eat. She didn't want to. Still didn't see the point for a ghost. But her stomach growled anyway.
With a sigh, she hoisted herself up off the floor and walked over to the window, bending down to grab the warm tin, quickly cooling in the cold.
"This is your fault," she told it. "You got me thinking about it."
The tin offered no apology, as she expected it wouldn't. The quiet in the old dark house was beginning to deafen her. The loneliness felt heavy on her chest.
How long could she go on like this?
The answer was obvious enough, and it came up through her mind, like a whisper -- Until the change, Holly.
Yes. Until the change. Until she became like everyone else who made contact.
What would it feel like? What had it been like for Chris? Had it taken him yet?
She shook her head, trying not to think about it. She promised herself she wouldn't go down that road, if only to keep her sanity. But the longer she lived alone with her thoughts, the harder it was to keep that promise to herself.
She pulled the tab on the pears and opened the tin, tipping the syrupy fruit into her mouth. It was sweet and still warm, thawing her insides as it moved down her throat. She stared out at Garden St, at the glinting moonlit snow. This was the coldest night she could remember in a long time.
And then she saw it -- a shadow at the end of the road. Holly choked on a piece of pear, and pressed her nose closer to the glass. Someone was walking down Garden St.
The person stopped, and Holly could feel their stare. They were watching Aunt Gem's house.
Holly scrambled back to her little fire, stomping out the flames as fast as she could, and returned to the window.
The person was walking straight for Aunt Gem's.
Holly's heart thundered against her ribs, her fast breath fogging the glass as she stared. She recognized the figure trudging through the snow. There was no mistaking him now.
Chris Winters had returned to Garden St.
TWO
"Holly?"
Holly sat, huddled against the banister on the bottom step of Aunt Gem's stairs, watching the shadow in the frosted glass of the front door window -- the shadow of Chris Winters.
Why was Chris Winters here, standing outside Aunt Gem's house? How was he here? The change should have taken him by now.
"Holly? It's you in there, isn't it." It wasn't a question, it was a declaration. Could the Changed speak? She didn't think so.
"Holly." The handle rattled as he tried to open it. "Hol, let me in."
She stood up and went to the door, her hand reaching for the glass, for the dark shadow of Chris Winters. He was right there. Right outside. How could he be there?
"Holly." The shadow of his hand found hers, and he pressed it to the glass. "Please."
Her heart was pounding so hard, it rattled her whole body so that she began to tremble. He didn't sound changed. He sounded like Chris. But that shouldn't be. He made contact with the parasite before she ever did. He should have changed by now.
She glanced at the doorknob, her heart aching to open it, to see a familiar face after being alone for so long. To speak to someone, have an actual conversation instead of just the quiet of her own thoughts.
But her head stopped her from reaching for it. She had to be smart now. Had to remember the danger that lurked outside.
"You haven't changed," she said, an accusation more than a question.
"No," he said, in one big relieved breath. "Jesus, Hol, I can't believe it's really you. I thought--"
"Why haven't you changed?"
"What? I don't -- How should I know? Luck? Grace of God? Who gives a shit? Let me in!"
"I need proof."
"What are you talking about? It's me! Just open the door."
Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle. There were two doors to Aunt Gem's -- the heavy red main one, and a screen door in front of that. She pulled open the red one and there he was, right there on the other side of the screen door. He wore a thick puffy jacket that was dirty and torn in some places, sweatpants that must have concealed multiple layers judging by their bulk, a hat and a hood over top. He seemed huge, wearing so much. But his face betrayed just how much weight he'd lost since they turned him away from the Clean Refuse. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, and his mouth looked wider somehow, like the skin around it had pulled tighter over his bones. Did she look just as frail?
She swallowed, and said again, "I need proof."
He pulled down his hood, and shrugged. "I mean, look at me Holly. I'm me."
He was Chris. She couldn't believe she was seeing him, but there he was. Even after living alone in a world that had crumbled around them, even after the toll of surviving had weakened his body, he was still handsome, and tall, with glinting brown eyes. He was still Chris Winters.
At least, it looked that way.
"Take off your clothes."
His brow wrinkled. And Holly felt her cheeks flush with heat. A year ago, she would never have believed she'd find herself saying that to Chris Winters. But the world had changed a lot since then.
"I need to be sure," she said.
He stood there, frowning, as if trying to decide whether to indulge her or turn around and take his chances with the empty world. Finally, he shook his head and unzipped his jacket, dropping it at his feet. He pulled off his boots, standing in the snow on the porch, and began peeling away the layers of pants and sweaters.
Holly watched, feeling her cheeks flush hotter and hotter.
Finally, he stood before her, shivering, bare chested and bare legged, wearing nothing but blue socks and a pair of dinosaur boxers.
Just as methodically as she'd scanned her own body, she surveyed his skin from behind the door, looking for the slightest sign of the change.
"Turn around."
He did, and she inspected his back, and still she couldn't see anything.
"Satisfied?" he asked through chattering teeth.
She nodded. But still, something nagged at her gut.
He scooped up his clothes and Holly stepped aside, letting him pull open the door and hop on frozen feet over the threshold into the living room. Holly tried not to stare, focusing instead on getting her fire going again while he dressed himself in the middle of the room.
He hadn't changed. There was no sign of it on his skin. That was good, wasn't it? If Chris came into contact with the parasite before she did, and he still hadn't changed, maybe that meant he wouldn't. And if he didn't, that meant she wouldn't either. She should have been ecstatic. Why then did she feel so anxious?
When he was finally bundled up again, he took a seat opposite her in front of the little fire, rubbing his hands. She watched the flames, feeling his eyes on her. Maybe that was what had her so uneasy -- she hadn't been watched, hadn't been seen, in so long. She'd forgotten how to be around another person.
Chris Winters didn't seem to have that same problem.
"I still can't get over it," he said. "You're really here. I thought you might be, but I wasn't sure. I almost didn't come." He laughed then, wrapping his arms around his middle. "Then again, what better plans did I have tonight?"
It was so easy for him -- conversing. Like riding a bike, he hadn't forgotten. He was relaxed, excited even. Like no time had passed at all since last Christmas. He was the same now as he had been the last time they'd spoken in Aunt Gem's living room.
"Rowdy crowd." That's what he said to her that night, at Aunt Gem's. She had his coat draped over her arm, his present in her hands as she walked down the hall off the living room to Aunt Gem's bedroom where she was supposed to put all the coats.
"What?" She'd been surprised, that night at Aunt Gem's, to see him following after her.
He stopped and nodded back toward the party. "Your Aunt's friends. Wild bunch."
Holly glanced around the living room -- it was the same scene she'd witnessed every year since she was five years old. Aunt Gem's friend Ronald explaining the mechanics of the Mustang he kept under a tarp in his garage. Brian Foster convincing neighbour Sherri to buy cupcakes from his girlfriend for her neice's wedding. Nana Jacob's sleeping in the corner. She suddenly saw how it all must look to Chris Winters' eyes -- lame.
Not that Holly ever thought Aunt Gem's Christmas party was cool. She hadn't thought of it as anything but Aunt Gem's Christmas party. But looking at it from Chris Winter's point of view she found herself feeling embarrassed.
"Yeah, a real rager," she laughed nervously. "You'd probably rather be at some jock kegger or something, huh?"
"Jock kegger?"
She flinched. Was that the wrong thing to say? "Sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded...."
He laughed and shook his head. "Nah, it's alright. Actually, Andre Gardner is having a bunch of people over tonight. Might check it out after."
"Right," Holly nodded, as if she already knew what Andre Gardner was doing tonight. But she didn't. Andre Gardner didn't exactly run in the same social circles as Holly. Holly didn't really run in any social circles, if she were honest with herself.
"Must be frustrating for you," she said, "being stuck here when you could be at Andre's."
He shrugged. "Andre's always having people over. It's not every day I get invited to Aunt Gem's."
Holly smiled, if only to be polite, and continued on down the hall to drop off Chris's coat. She didn't understand. What could he possibly find interesting enough at Aunt Gem's to miss out on Andre Gardner's party for?
"You wanna come?"
Holly turned away from the coats to stare at Chris Winters, leaning casually in the doorway.
"Come where?"
"To Andre's," he said. "After this."
Holly froze. She'd never been invited to one of Andre Gardner's parties. Or any party, really. The idea was unexpectedly terrifying. "I uh, I don't think my Aunt would want me to leave..."
Chris shrugged. "That's cool."
But it wasn't. She could tell from the way he looked down at the floor she'd said something wrong.
"It's just that, I have to help with the karaoke," she said quickly, trying to fix it.
"Karaoke?"
"Yeah, we do it every year." Her insides began to shrivel. What was more embarrassing than explaining to someone like Chris Winters that she had to help start Christmas Karaoke for a bunch of seniors? "Aunt Gem can never figure out how to hook the machine up to the TV so I do it for her. Then we all sing Christmas songs. It's stupid but my Aunt loves it."
He laughed. "That sounds awesome."
It didn't. Couldn't. Holly refused to believe that Christmas Karaoke at Aunt Gem's could sound awesome to Chris Winters. But still, he staid at the party. He got right into the karaoke, helping lead the ding dong ding dong part in Carol of the Bells. Holly remembered how at home he was, in a room full of old people he barely knew. Remembered how quickly he learned all their names, and how easily he seemed to make a connection with every person there during the silly sing alongs.
"Aunt Gem!" He stood in front of the entire party, trying to pull Aunt Gem up off the couch. "You and me. You're going to love this one."
Aunt Gem waved her arms, shaking him off. She could barely breathe from laughing so hard. "Oh no no, not me. I need a break. Holly! You do this one with him."
Holly broke into a cold sweat. She only ever sang along with the group. She didn't perform on her own.
But then Chris held out his hand. "Alright Holly, you're up."
She couldn't stop herself from taking it. Looking back now, she wished she hadn't.
Together, they sang Baby It's Cold Outside. It was off key. And they both barely knew the words. But the crowd loved it. And Holly had never laughed harder.
She glanced up at him now, sitting on the other side of the fire, his brown eyes watching her happily.
Chris never did go to Andre Gardner's party.
Holly dropped her eyes back to the flames, unable to look at him. None of this would have happened if he'd just gone to Andre's. He would have been safe. She would have been safe. But he staid at Aunt Gem's. What the hell for?
"You been downtown to Main St?" he was saying, oblivious to the fact that Holly hadn't been listening. "It's pretty unbelievable. Windows on every storefront busted. Never thought I'd see that. Guess people lost their minds when the news broke. Looting or whatever. Found these boots though. Little tight, but they work well enough. I tried to find some bigger ones but--"
"What are you doing here?" she snapped suddenly.
He scratched nervously at his neck. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what are you doing here? Why did you come here?"
He frowned and cleared his throat. "I told you, Hol. Because I thought you'd be here."
"So? Why did you come here? Why did you care if I was here or not? What does it matter?" She was angry. Furious with him for intruding on Aunt Gem's house yet again. For being so comfortable here, in her space. How could he be so comfortable? After what happened the last time.
He looked away, and cleared his throat again.
"Why did you come here that night?" she demanded. "You could have gone to Andre's party. Why did you come Chris?"
He kept on clearing his throat, louder and louder, ignoring the question.
"Chris!" she barked. "Why did you come here?"
But he couldn't answer. He clawed at his neck, and the hacking, throat clearing sound was replaced by gasping, wheezing.
Chris Winters was choking.
Holly leaped to his side as he bent forward, his skin turning red. She helped him lay down on the hardwood, and undid his coat, her fingers fumbling as she loosened his scarf.
As quickly as it started, the gasping attack fell away, his body relaxing as Holly heard the air filling his lungs.
Chris Winters groaned, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "What the hell," he said. "I dunno what that was about."
But Holly knew. She was staring at the problem. Spidering out along Chris Winter's neck were veins the colour of asphalt.
Chris Winters had started to change.
THREE
Chris Winters was barely Chris Winters anymore. His blemish-free complexion had turned a pallid grey, streaked with black, spidering veins. But that was the least of it. In the hour and a half Holly had watched his body writhe on the floor of Aunt Gem's living room, he'd managed to tear off his coat, rip open his sleeves -- she could see bulges, growing in the crooks of his arms, like golf balls, swelling under his skin. There were bulges on the backs of his hands, and clusters of them on his neck, more dotting his once perfectly defined jaw. They pulsed with every heart beat, eager to burst. How long before they did?
Chris Winters lay still, finally, his breathing labored.
"Holly," he rasped.
She pulled her knees to her chest, holding her breath.
"I know you're still there, Holly."
How? When the change began, she told him to leave, demanded it, but it was too late for that. The transformation was too painful, too consuming for him to get it together and walk out the door. He was too busy rolling around on the floorboards. So Holly decided she would leave. She grabbed what few belongings she had, threw them in her duffle bag and made for the door, Chris Winters crying her name through gritted teeth. She had no intention of sticking around for what would happen when the change was over. No intention of being here when the new Chris Winters woke up hungry for blood. She got all the way to the door, her hand on the knob, before she stopped. The change had come on Chris Winters so suddenly. So quickly. So painfully. How long would it last? And would he lose his mind gradually, or all at once? She had to know what to expect. Had to be ready.
Because the change was still coming for her.
So she sat in the hallway, on the stairs, out of Chris's sight, and watched.
"Water." His voice was so thin, barely there. Like smoke.
Holly didn't move. Stay away. That was what everyone said about the Changed. Every news report, every health bulletin, every special announcement from the government. Stay away.
"Holly," he groaned again. "Some water. Please."
She glanced at her pack, beside her on the stairs. She had a water bottle. She could spare some, if she were honest with herself. With the snow, water wasn't hard to get. But still, it was work to sanitize. And even still, what would be the point of wasting any on him? His thirst for water would change to blood soon enough.
"Holly," Chris Winter's tried, his voice pleading, "I'm still me."
"For now."
"I could say the same for you," he snapped.
She swallowed.
She watched him curl into a ball, arms clutched around his stomach. "I'm sorry," he grunted. "My throat just really hurts. Please."
With a sigh, she fished out the water bottle and walked into the living room, placing it down on the hardwood just out of Chris's reach. He grabbed for it and Holly stepped back, watching him warily as he guzzled what she was sure was most of the bottle.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, for her sake more than his.
He wiped his mouth, panting between gulps. "I feel like I'm being turned inside out."
"So that's a yes."
He glared at her sideways. "Yeah, that's a yes."
She tried to pretend that didn't frighten her. But it did. It was frightening enough to face the idea that she would become someone else, some monster version of herself. That she'd have to go through pain while it happened -- it seemed like some cruel joke. A punishment. Though she wasn't sure what she was being punished for.
Her eyes fell on Chris Winters then, his body lying flat on the floorboards, one arm draped over his face as he breathed heavily, waiting for the next attack.
"You never answered me, you know," she said. "Never answered my question."
He didn't move his hand from his eyes. "Because it was a stupid question."
"Don't you think I deserve an answer, after all this?"
A bitter puff of air, escaped him, and he peaked out from under his arm. "Are you serious?"
Holly said nothing. The inside of her elbow itched and she began to scratch.
Chris rolled his eyes before covering his face again. "I already answered it."
As her nails scraped skin she became aware of a hardness growing beneath the flesh. A bulge.
Holly's heart froze.
"Don't pretend like you don't remember," said Chris, his eyes still covered. "That night at your Aunt's."
That night. Last Christmas. Holly tried to think, tried to remember what Chris was talking about, but all she could do was stare at the bulge in her arm.
"Open it," she heard him say inside her mind. They had sat together, that night at Aunt Gem's, in the back bedroom on top of the coats. Her skin felt warm then. Flushed from all the karaoke, or maybe the peach schnapps Chris stole from his parents and had hidden in his jacket pocket. Or maybe it was Chris himself -- the way he smelled, like pine trees and oranges, the way he sat so close to her that their legs were touching. The silver foil wrapping was smooth beneath her fingers as she held the little gift in her lap.
"Isn't it for Aunt Gem?" she had asked him.
He blushed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Not really."
Her stomach swelled, a million butterfly wings thudding through her gut. Did that mean he brought it for her? She didn't understand. Since when did Chris Winters care about her?
"What," she started, then swallowed, trying again, not sure what exactly she was trying to ask. Then finally, through the fog of the schnapps, the question came to her. The thing she wanted to know more than anything. "Why did you come here tonight, Chris?"
That was the question. She clawed at the bulge in her arm now, feeling an ache run through her veins. She looked down at her hands -- the blood was turning black, spidering along her skin like marble.
"Just open it," she remembered him saying. Remembered the way her heart stopped beating for just the slightest excited moment before she tore open the wrapping to reveal a white cardboard box.
A pain, deep and sharp took hold of her abdomen. She bent in half. Cried out.
"Holly?" Chris said alarmed.
"Holly?" his voice a husky whisper in her memory as she remembered staring into the the cardboard box. Stared down at the thing that started it all. And then, she'll never forget the moment, she reached inside and picked it up, holding it high between them. "Do you know what it is?" he had asked her.
"Mistletoe," she'd answered.
The pain surged, exploding into something more -- something ALIVE. And it wanted to rip her in two. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the the floor, collapsed next to Chris Winters, screaming through the torment.
"Holly!" Chris reached for her.
And in her memory, he reached for her too, his hand gently holding her knee. "You wanna know why I came tonight?" he'd said, his breath sweet with the smell of peach. "I wanted to see you."
Goosebumps raced up her arms then, and she leaned closer. "Me? Why me?"
"Because I've been wanting to do this for a long time."
"Do what?"
And he'd answered with a kiss. A long, slow, warm kiss that Holly melted into, all the while holding the Mistletoe above them. The Mistletoe that no one knew had evolved into something different. Something angry. Something hungry. The Mistletoe that released its parasitic spores while they kissed, that they breathed in and let take root inside their bodies. The Mistletoe that would change them.
"Holly!" Chris cried as she screamed, his hand closing on hers. She tore it back, writhing and begging for the misery to end.
And it did, for a moment. Or maybe shock had finally set in. She drifted away from her body, fell deep into her mind towards the memory of kissing Chris Winters last Christmas Eve. And she remembered what happened after they kissed. She ended it, pulling away from him suddenly.
"What's wrong?" he'd asked her.
What was wrong was that she was afraid. Afraid of loving someone like Chris Winters. She'd loved him from afar for so long. And having him here, right in front of her, so close, she realized exactly how much he could break hurt her.
"Did I do it wrong?" he'd asked, embarrassed.
She hadn't been able to speak, imagining the heartbreak that would wait for her if she went down that path with him.
He'd smiled. "Then can I do it again?" He leaned in and Holly leaped to her feet, turning on her heel and walking out the door, back to Gem's party, as far from Chris Winters as she could get.
The pain came back, screaming in the pit of her stomach, and she lay there on the floor of Aunt Gem's living room, trying to remember to breath.
Chris Winters lay not far away, his skin a mess of dark, dying veins, and roots sprouting from the bulges growing around his face. With what little strength he had left, he pulled his body closer to Holly, taking a firm hold of her hand.
She let him. The pain was so awful. So frightening. She couldn't bare it alone.
"You want to know why I'm back here?" he grunted through the change. "It's because you never answered me, Holly."
She looked at him through tears, a face so warped from the one she'd loved last Christmas -- the face that asked her if he could kiss her again.
Another surge of pain -- the change was imminent. Soon she wouldn't be Holly anymore. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Yes you can kiss--"
And before she could get the words out, her vision began to swim, the colours of the world changed around her. And as Chis Winters leaned in to the girl who had once been known as Holly, she lunged, her teeth sinking into his neck.
❄️
For more zombified reading, Zombie Shark Highway is still up til the end of the year!
Happy Holiday
I loved it ! (even though I absolutely hate zombies :D)
I'm not really a zombie story person but this was such a fun read 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻