The soil covering the new resting home of Vincent’s mother slowly shifted to reveal bony fingers, as an arm stripped of skin landed on top of the grave. Seconds later another arm appeared before a head and a frail body followed to reveal a grotesque figure wearing a torn dress with a crucifix around its neck lift out of the ground. It snarled, showing gums as it sniffed the air; staring at the high fencing that separated the garden from the next one upon hearing a whimper coming from behind it. It snarled again after the whimpering was followed by a loud scratching before a wooden fence panel began to loosen.

Behind it was Bruno; the neighbour’s Doberman dog. He’d heard the snarling and it had made him excited.

Bruno growled, biting at the panel until it cracked before tearing a piece away to leave a hole big enough to place his head inside; seeing the zombie as it moved away from the grave. But Bruno didn’t bark. He just whimpered excitedly even more; tearing away more wood until being able to enter the garden.  

Bruno wagged his tail as the zombie staggered from side-to-side; its mouth snapping at thin air upon walking barefoot across the dirt and onto the grass. It stopped to glare at Bruno, twitching its head as loose flesh hung down from its face, but it wasn’t snarling anymore as Bruno neared it to sniff the insects dropping from its body.

The dog wasn’t frightened by the zombie’s appearance because it somehow saw beyond the mutilation, thinking the creature was still the old lady who used to give it baked cookies, so it ran around the zombie in the hope it would give chase. But it didn’t. It just watched the dog until it slowed down again.  

Bruno shuffled closer until almost touching the zombie’s dirty feet, flicking falling insects off his back upon looking up to see the creature point a finger. It opened its mouth to make a rasping sound before finally saying – “Brrruuunnnooo;” making the dog more excited to wag its tail at twice the speed as before. Bruno let the zombie reach down to touch his fur, feeling its hand stroke his back before sitting upright, but, as both sets of eyes connected, the zombie lunged for Bruno’s throat, tightening its grip rapidly to make Bruno yelp. But the dog didn’t react aggressively. Even whilst choking, Bruno just stared at the zombie, thinking it to be the frail old lady.

A breathless squeal escaped from the dog’s mouth as its tongue flapped in the cool breeze before its eyes turned a cloudy-white upon letting out a final breath.

The zombie stared at the animal, not letting go as flashbacks from the past cluttered up its mind. It tried to smile but quickly became aggressive again upon feeling a desire to feed on the dog, but, as it lifted Bruno to its mouth, was left angry for not being able to take a bite. It snapped gums onto Bruno’s neck again before releasing them; letting go to leave a line of slobber as the dog crumbled to the ground.

The zombie snarled upon turning to face the house; sniffing the air again to leave a huge grin on its face as it slowly moved away from the dog. It noticed something glisten on the ground as it walked to the edge of the garden but the sun’s rays bounced off the item, causing the zombie to blink as it neared before it bent awkwardly to pick it up. It was a Stanley knife. Vincent had left it lying on the ground with its blade still showing.

The zombie turned the knife in its scrawny right hand before glaring at the back door of the house; slobbering down its rotting chin upon walking towards it. It touched the door; sliding hands up and down on it before groaning like it had forgotten how to open it upon bumping its head on a wall. It slapped hands against the door in a fit of rage until accidentally flicking the handle down to open it; pushing it wider to enter the kitchen to glare at the new worktops, cooker, and cupboards. It didn’t look impressed.  

It growled upon holding the knife out in front; turning it again and again as if wanting to attack an invisible enemy before swinging its hand as it moved along the room. It saw another door so slowly neared it, but its swinging hand crashed against a saucepan hanging on the wall, sending it smashing to the floor as the door burst open. Mary stood in the doorway open-mouthed, struggling to breathe after the sight of the zombie spooked her to collapse to the floor; her heart beating faster and faster to leave her close to fainting. She pushed her bum into the carpet, retreating like someone rowing a boat; moving her legs and hands at speed to get away from the thing in front of her. But the zombie followed, waving the knife in the air.  

Mary reached a wall; sweating fast upon eyeballing the intruder to see if it would strike her, but it stopped moving and just watched her, giving her time to rise off the ground. She shivered; too scared to shout out for help upon watching the zombie stare at her like it was studying her; seeing it lower the knife before rasping out the word – “Mar.”

Mary swallowed hard, blinking fast upon seeing beneath the flaking, stinking mass of filth that covered the zombie’s face and body. She recognised the way it stood, reminding her of Margaret, Vincent’s mother, but it wasn’t until seeing the crucifix that she believed it.

The zombie tried to say her name again but Mary was freaking out more and more.

She slowly moved to her left to reach another door but the zombie’s head turned in the same direction to stop her, frightening her into not knowing what to do next.

She gulped as maggots squirmed out of the zombie; seeing them drop to the floor to carry on across the carpet as the creature touched what was left of its hair. Mary winced when some fell out in its hand. She heard the zombie snarl upon raising the knife again; swinging it rapidly towards itself to slice into its left arm as coagulated blood seeped out like thick, dark oil.

Mary wanted to, needed to escape, but she couldn’t budge. All she could do was watch the thing in front of her tear at its arm until it was close to hanging off before it stopped to glare at her; making her freak out even more.

She took a deep breath before racing towards the nearest door, gripping the handle to pull it to her, but the zombie picked up speed, closing in to drag her back before skimming the knife blade across her left cheek to leave a deep cut. Mary yelped as she placed a hand over it, but the stinging, throbbing pain as the blood seeped beneath her fingers brought tears to her eyes. She stood in the middle of the living room in a state of pure shock, not able to think straight as the zombie grinned; licking its decomposing lips upon sniffing the blood.

“Who are you?! What do you want?!” Mary shouted at it as the blood ran down her hand. “You look like my husband’s mother, but you can’t be, she’s dead. So, who the hell are you?”

She was now covered in a blanket of fear as crazy thoughts about her mother-in-law overloaded her brain.

What the hell had happened? 

She watched the zombie snap its mouth, as what was left of its nostrils twitched before desperately searching the room for something to fend it off with; seeing a walking stick that Vincent used on his long walks standing in a corner. She retreated to more snarls coming from the creature but was able to make some distance to reach an armchair before it moved towards her; pushing the chair out in front for protection in the hope of keeping the mad freak at arm’s length, but, as the tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks followed by another burst of nerves, she became too petrified to reach for the stick. She stared at the phone, trying to convince herself that she had enough time to make a call, but reality kicked in and she knew it was too risky to try. So, she just waited to see what the zombie would do.  

It snarled again, moving towards her, pushing against the chair to force it away from her grasp, but this time Mary screamed, sending a shrill bouncing off the walls to stall the zombie’s attack. She took another breath, hoping that her cry for help would cause the zombie to back off, but it refocused to lash out, smashing into the armchair to send it spinning across the room.

Mary pleaded with the human-like creature but knew her words were being wasted. It snarled at her again; raising the knife to scare her into almost shrinking to her knees in submission, but she plucked up the courage to move towards the stick; reaching for it as a sharp pain stung her back. She turned awkwardly, seeing the knife blade drip blood, knowing now what had happened as the pain increased upon feeling the wetness of liquid slide down to turn her cream-coloured long skirt red. She saw the blood drip onto the carpet before closing her eyes for a second, hoping it was just a dream as the zombie gripped her, pinching fingers into her flesh.

It eyed the recent wound, licking its lips again as Mary pulled away to grab the stick; swinging it as hard as she could at the torn arm until it ripped away and dropped to the floor. She choked as it slithered along the carpet to try to reach her.

Mary kicked it against a wall before stupidly barging into the beast to escape into the kitchen, but her trailing arm was gripped tight to stop her. She shouted at the zombie before frantically slapping a hand at its face; popping out an eye to see it swing from the optic nerve cable before being violently launched into the air as a painful shiver shot down her back. She crashed hard into the television set, sending it smashing against a wall upon lying on her side; hearing the neighbour screech out his disgust at the racket coming from her house. The last few words she heard were: “Keep the fucking noise down!”

Mary tried to move but her body was battered and bruised. She knew she had at least one broken rib upon returning to her feet; feeling dazed as her breathing became harder to achieve. She wasn’t able to avoid more stinging cuts to her face as the blade was swung in her direction over and over again to leave her vision blurred. She lifted her hands to protect herself but they too were being sliced as she pleaded once again to be left alone.

She’d no idea where the beast would strike next.

She became more frightened from the thought of being killed by the hands of the thing that reminded her of her mother-in-law, but even though she wanted to scream again, she couldn’t do it. She was too petrified to try.  

She swung her wounded hands at thin air in the hope of catching the creature with a lucky strike, but it clamped a hand onto her jaw before slamming her head loudly against the wall above the fireplace. Mary felt the cold, bloodied blade on the tip of her nose upon listening to the zombie growl at her; its croaky voice penetrating her insides to scare her into wetting herself before the blade sectioned off the edge of her nose. Blood gushed down over her mouth and chin before soaking her blouse, as the zombie gazed at it before sucking it off her face. But Mary just let it. She was too weak to move now.