My official website is a dead zombie duck wandering the internet wasteland looking for brains and finding none, especially on facebook. This blog was started as a random drawing/story project about proto feminist zombies...er yeh seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it is just a blog about my art in general with the occasional feminist zombie thrown in

Wednesday 27 March 2013


It was beginning of November and the family made their annual trip to Devanira's grave. The entire family were there as part of the traditional mexican day of the dead to celebrate her life and remember her fondly. Her father laid a wreath of marigold over her gravestone while her mother placed three bottles of tequila by her grave. Her husband and two children had brought hand painted toy skulls which they also placed around Devanira's grave. They sat together and joined hands each taking a moments silence to think about the times they had spent with her.

Every year since the car crash it had been like this, at first it was difficult for the family to cope with the grief of such a sudden and violent loss. But each year it got a little easier and the pain was replaced with happy memories of her life. They remembered all the times she had been kind to them, all the selfless things she had done for her children and husband while she was alive and all joy she had brought to her parents.

Each year a member of the family would make a speech about Devanira, recalling a special moment or anecdote from her life. This year it was her fathers turn to talk, he was halfway through a lengthy speech about Devanira's beauty, warmth and kindness when he was interrupted by a rumbling under his feet. Loosing his balance and falling into his wife's ample breast he swore loudly to the amusement of the children. Their laughs soon stopped when a horrible cacophony of moans came from the graves around them. Other families began to run in fear as their long dead loved ones began clawing their way out of  their stinking resting places. Soon hundreds of undead were rampaging around the graveyard, eating anyone foolish enough to get caught in their path.

Devanira's father was in shock, still nestled in his wife's bosom he turned to see a skeletal hand push its way out of the earth, she clawed at the dirt and her awful skeletal head appeared. Her hair was still as black as night, but most of her flesh had rotted away, leaving an awful skeletal monstrosity of what she used to be. She had pulled herself out up to her waist and managed to grab one of the children's legs pulling the screaming pee stained brat towards her gaping mouth. She took a massive bite out of the child's calf tearing away muscle and tendons. The child collapsed in horror as the father managed to pull him away from his hell banshee of a spouse. Devanira noticed the tequila and grabbed a bottle, smashing the top off she poured it into her gaping jaws and all over her putrid face. Laughing horribly as tequila poured out of her throat she chewed on the piece of meat in her mouth. Her horrified mother went to reprimand Devanira's awful behaviour but before she had the chance to wag an angry finger she was smashed in the face with a jagged end of a broken tequila bottle. Her eyes gouged out she fell back into her husbands arms.

Meanwhile Devanira's husband was flipping the hell out. One of the kids had passed out while the other was vomiting everywhere. He tried to pick up the unconscious kid while dragging the other away by the arm but by this point Devanira had released herself from her grave. She pounced on the three of them and tore at her husbands back, he tried to put the kids in between himself and his awful zombie wife in the vain hope that her love for them would stop this awful behaviour. However Devanira couldn't give a flying f**k about the kids and instead of showing them maternal love and warmth ripped them into meat confetti. Her husband stood for a second in slack jawed horror, before he could really grasp what the hell had just happened two other zombies jumped on his back. Becoming a kind of human meals on wheels was the last thing he had really expected that day, it would be nice to say the last thing that went through his head was a happy memory of his wife and children. However the last thing that really went through his head was Devanira's claw like fist, closely followed by her zombie tongue licking out his brains.

It was around this point in the chaotic festivities that Devanira's father remembered what a complete total and utter b***h  she was. The family had conveniently forgotten all the times she had been cruel to the children, all the times she had cheated on her loyal husband and all the times she had upset her mother. They'd even forgotten her crazy drunken rampages and violent behaviour. Instead after her death they had slowly convinced themselves that she was a perfect daughter, a model wife and a loving and caring mother. In death she had reached a kind of perfection in their minds she could never have attained while alive. Now that she had come back as a hate fueled zombie her father could see her as what she really had been, every bit as ugly on the inside as what she was on the outside, basically an absolute awful c**t.

His wife lying blind in the dirt by his side, Devanira's father lost it. Seeing his grandchildren eviscerated, his wife blinded and his son in law turned into a brain buffet was too much. He grabbed one of the remaining bottles of tequila and smashed it on the corner of his daughter's grave. Running at her full pelt he sunk the glass into her skull, stabbing the bottle down in a violent rage again and again until she lay motionless on the bloodied ground. Looking down at her he spat on her corpse and cursed the day she had entered his life.

Surrounded by hundreds of undead he knew he and his wife wouldn't be able to escape the cemetery, but he took some comfort knowing that his awful daughter was probably burning in hell and no longer wreaking havoc here on earth.

Friday 22 March 2013


As a young girl Coral wasn't really like the other kids. Were the other girls had wanted to be a princess or a ballerina she'd always wanted to be a super hero. She wasn't too fussy which one she was, super girl, she hulk or wonder woman, just as long as she got some kick ass super powers to beat up smelly boys she would be happy. As she grew up however she realised that super powers weren't real and life was nothing like it was in comic books.

Coral became homeless in her mid twenties, she soon found out that there was one super power that really did exist. Not only did it exist but Coral possessed it. It was the power of invisibility, she could sit on the street begging for change all day and not a soul would look at her. She could even ask people for change but they would still walk past as if she wasn't even there. The only friend she had in the world who knew she existed was her dog Buddy.

Buddy came everywhere with her, he was her companion through thick and thin. No matter how bad things got Buddy was there, he protected her and she looked after him and kept him well fed.

One particularly cold night Coral and Buddy were sleeping rough in a cardboard box behind an abandoned factory when they heard a strange growling coming from the darkness. Buddy began to whimper then bark and before Coral could grab him he ran out of the box into the darkness of the alleyway. Staggering out into the night Coral called out her companions name, she could hear barking in the distance and ran towards what she thought was Buddy. Rounding the corner she was met with something else, a slobbering half rotten zombie dog was ripping into a dead cat, it was tearing the cat to pieces and hadn't noticed Coral. She began to back away slowly but stumbled into some metal bins stacked by the wall making a huge crash. The zombie dog turned its head and let out an awful growl, its eyes were glowing red and putrid rabid strings of drool ran from its yellow tooth filled jaws. Coral froze in terror, the dog pounced at her, instinctively she raised her arm and the dog sunk its teeth into her flesh. She let out an awful scream, the zombie dog tore at her arm then released its grip. Just as it was about to gore her throat to bits Buddy came running out of the darkness, he smashed into the zombie dog knocking it back onto a pile of wood pallets. The zombified beast was impaled on a sharp piece of wood, bent rusted nails hooking into its flesh preventing it from moving. As it thrashed and howled Coral got to her feet and picked up a metal pipe off the floor. She smashed the pipe down onto its head until it lay limp on the ground, it's brains oozing onto the floor. Coral and buddy wandered back to the safety of their cardboard box. Shuffling inside Coral hugged Buddy for warmth, and pulled their sleeping bag up over them both.

Coral shook all night, she had a high temperature and feverish dreams, Buddy stayed with her until morning when he crawled out to look for food, take a whiz and generally sniff at stuff. When he returned he found his owner had turned into a flesh eating zombie, he cowered back from her not knowing what to do. He didn't want to leave her, but didn't want to be eaten by her either. Reaching out to stroke Buddy Coral was surprised when he recoiled from her and ran out of the box. She crawled out and looked at herself in a puddle, her face had rotted horribly in the night. She'd turned into a horrible mess, no wonder Buddy was scared, she was scared too! Getting down on her knees she held out her hand to tempt buddy over, slowly but surely he edged towards her. When he realised Coral wasn't going to turn him into dog food he let her pet him.

Coral and Buddy are still best friends, they wander the country far and wide having crazy adventures. If you should come across them one day why not spare them some change, or some brains.

Thursday 14 March 2013


It was a bright summers day, the sun was shining through the crisp new leaves on the trees creating dancing patterns of light on the ground. As birds looped and sang over head a horse drawn white carriage pulled to a halt at the entrance to the village church. The driver stepped off and opened the cabin door, the proud father of the bride climbed down first and took his daughter's hand, stepping out and straightening her billowing dress she looked at the church with a sigh of relief and happiness.

It had been a hard and grueling previous six years and at times the whole family felt the wedding would not go ahead. Zombie outbreaks had been happening in most major cities, from L.A to London hundreds of thousands of the walking dead had run riot, killing and terrorising the populace of the entire planet. By Late spring that year however the united military might of the world had contained most of the outbreaks and was cleaning up and destroying the zombie infestation.

The zombies hadn't really had too much of an effect on this particular sleepy little northern English village. Apart from food shortages, county roadblocks and the occasional army battalion passing through nothing much had really changed. No zombies had been seen in the village, old Mrs Milton from the village shop was mistakenly shot dead by a soldier when he came across her sleep walking naked in the village green. Other than that case of mistaken identity no real zombies were seen. The wedding had been postponed until now because most of the family lived in the south of England and getting through contamination zones had been very dangerous. Now that the worst had passed the wedding could finally go ahead.

Standing there looking at the church holding her father's hand, Kate felt overwhelmed. She would very soon be Mrs Kate Harrison, so many times she had thought that this day would never come, but now it was here at last and she didn't want it to end. Her father waited with her until they heard the organ music which would be their cue to enter the church and walk down the aisle.

But before they heard the organ music they heard something else, something that sent a chill down both of their spines, a loud scream echoed across the church graveyard. They both turned with a start and saw undead hands clawing their way out of the graves surrounding the church. The scream had come from the coach driver, who was already scrambling onto the coach and whipping the horses into a frenzied gallop down the road. Kate's father turned to grab her and pull her into the church, but before he could react a zombie had jumped on her back and had sunk it's teeth into her neck. She screamed out in pain as blood gushed all over her white dress, her father punched the zombie as hard as he could in the face. The zombie fell back and shook it's head, a piece of Kate's neck was hanging from it's mouth. Blood was in the air now, this drove the other zombies into a frenzy. They swarmed around and blocked the entrance to the church. Kate's dad tried his best to fend them off but, overwhelmed by sheer numbers he went down, several zombies made short work of him ripping him to bloody pieces. Meanwhile Kate was pushing her way to the door, two zombies had latched onto her and were trying to drag her down for the kill. One had sunk it's teeth into her side while the other was holding onto her leg. She kicked the one holding her leg in the face, her foot sunk into it's rotten skull. Stumbling towards the door she managed to pry the other zombie off her side, it stumbled and fell to the floor tearing a large chunk of flesh out of her with it's teeth as it fell. Pushing at the heavy wooden church doors she flung herself inside. Quickly turning she slammed her full weight against the door and tried to push it shut, but too many zombies were trying to get in and she was far too weak from blood loss to hold them back.

By this point the entire church had turned to look what the hell was going on, they saw Kate screaming and pushing at the door covered in blood. The groom ran as fast as he could down the aisle just getting to the door before the zombies pushed it open. Kate was just about managing to stay conscious but had lost a lot of blood. Several other members of the congregation joined them and helped to push at the door. A zombie managed to grab Kate's left arm and pulled her so hard that her body slammed into the door. The door was now closing on her arm and she let out a piercing scream, several zombies sunk their teeth into her exposed flesh and her arm was torn off just below the elbow. Another zombie managed to rake it's teeth down her face ripping her left eye out and tearing away a huge chunk of gore. At this point she passed out just as she was pulled back in and the church door was closed and bolted shut...

She woke up an hour or so later and sat up, pulling the veil from her face and looking around she could see that everyone had gathered at the alter leaving her at the back of the church. She got to her feet and stumbled down the aisle towards the congregation, she'd be f***ed if this was going to ruin her wedding day! Just as she got to the alter the priest turned around and saw her standing there. He let out a huge scream and ran at her full pelt stabbing a crucifix into her side. What in the name of all buggering hell did he think he was doing? First off that was just bloody rude, second crosses are for vampires not zombies and third Kate was not a flipping zombie! Anyway it severely p***ed Kate off that this stupid bloody priest had just wedged a crucifix into her guts, this was her bloody day! And yes it wasn't going perfectly but he was just making it worse. She went to slap him but instead just swung a bloody left stump splashing him across the face with blood. It was only then that she realised that she may no longer be among the living. Looking over at her fiance she could see the absolute horror on his face, there was no bloody way he would marry her now......unless.

Several hours later Kate stood at the alter, her new corpse husband holding her hand...the only one she had left. The zombie priest had just finished the ceremony and they were now officially rotting corpse husband and mangled wife. The congregation looked on with dead glassy stares, some of them moaned a little, most of them applauded if they still had two arms. Kate had systematically murdered them all and turned them into zombies, one bite at a time. After they had all changed they seemed far more at ease with the wedding going ahead, sure it wasn't exactly what she had envisioned when she was a little girl, but no marriage is made in heaven....especially not this one.

Monday 11 March 2013


Polly was a grade A student, smart and capable she had exceeded through school and college and into one of  the countries top universities. She'd finished university with a first degree in physics but had come to a brick wall in terms of her ability to pursue academic excellence....she didn't have enough money. She wasn't from a rich background and had managed to fund her schooling through loans and a little money left to her by her grandparents, but now she was trying to fund her masters and was struggling. She tried to get employment in her chosen field but that too seemed impossible, even offering to do free placements in order to gain experience just didn't seem to work. It seemed that all the work in physics was being done by famous physicist Ax Corbin, with no room at all for anyone else to get a shoe in!

So Polly had to get a dead end job to pay her way, she ended up in an ice cream van. So there she was reading astrophysics books between serving screaming brats ice cream, needless to say it was very, very, very depressing. Her days were filled with endless hours of boredom were nothing happened followed by crazy mad rushes of kids screaming at her for lolly pops and sweets, she also had to put up with being stung to pieces by swarms of wasps attracted to all the sugar in the air. She almost hated the f***ing wasps as much as the drooling, bad mannered kids, but worst of all was the ineffectual stupid parents who allowed their little 'darlings' to run riot. The parents would occasionally try to put a little discipline into the screaming monsters, only to instantly give up and give in to the brats demands for more chocolate or whatever will shut them up for five minutes. Sadly all the sugar only made the brats more cantankerous and even more horrible to be around. The only consolation was that at the end of the day Polly could go home to a little piece and quiet, were as the parents would be trapped in this living hell for another 20 years at the very least.

Things took an unusual turn one seemingly ordinary thursday afternoon. Polly had just finished what seemed like the longest hour of her life serving awful families and was cleaning down the equipment when she heard an unusual buzzing noise emanating from the rubbish bin next to her van. Knowing she had to empty the bin eventually she ventured over to get it over with. Opening the bin she was met with something of a shock, instead of a few wasps as she had expected there was just one giant wasp laying on top of the rubbish staring back at her. The beast was about a foot from head to tail and looked greenish yellow in colour, it stank to high heaven of rotten flesh and was oozing some kind of thick liquid from its giant ugly wasp face. Polly let out a scream and recoiled in horror slamming the bin lid down, unfortunately this only served to piss the wasp off no end. Even more unfortunate for Polly this wasp was clearly no ordinary insect, it had stung an unsuspecting zombie who had been quietly eating some poor souls guts a bit too close to a rubbish bin on a warm summers day. That's right, it was a zombie wasp, no really it was. The beast flew full speed towards Polly who was by this point scrambling for the safety of the van, she just managed to dive in and shut the window as the wasp slammed into the side door. Polly got into the back of the van for a better view of the thing, she couldn't believe what she was seeing, surely this couldn't be natural. She felt quite safe to view the wasp from behind the glass, who was flying a mad circle around the van, but she had underestimated the wasp's strength. It took a large run up and flew as fast as it could straight towards the glass window, it smashed through in a shower of razor sharp shards and bit down on Polly's face. She fell back and crashed to the floor, the wasp began repeatedly stabbing her in the chest with it's giant stinger, injecting her with massive quantities of zombie wasp venom. Polly only just managed to summon the strength to punch the wasp and then kick it back away from her. She grabbed the nearest thing to her which just happened to be an astrophysics book and slammed it full force down onto the wasp's head. Thankfully astrophysics happens to be a very, very difficult heavy subject, which requires very heavy large books to explain what the flip is going on at the event horizons of black holes, so as it turns out, makes the perfect weapon when dealing with over sized zombie wasps. The wasp's head exploded in a shower of green ooze and Polly passed out on the floor.

Waking up a few hours later it was clear that everything was not okay, Polly took a look at her face in the reflection of the ice cream machine's metallic surface and let out a quiet whimper. Her hair had fallen out in clumps, while her skin had turned into a running ooze of puss. She no longer had a nose and one of her eyes was lolling on her cheek. She'd never considered herself pretty but this was just the last bloody straw! If it hadn't been for this stupid job she would never have been here in the first place, rightly or wrongly the first thing that she blamed was the middle class parents and their hateful offspring. She wanted revenge, revenge for all the wasted hours and days spent thanklessly serving these over indulged jerks. If she was doomed to be a walking dead retail zombie for the rest of her life then those f***ers were going to suffer too.

Grabbing a marker pen and ripping a piece of card off one of the ice cream cone boxes she made a crude sign. The sign read: Free ice cream for children under ten. She then scrambled into the front of the van and searched around in the glove box, it had to be there or the plan wouldn't work at all. She found what she was looking for and brought it into the back of the van. She pulled the undead wasps body off the floor and dropped it into the ice cream machine, then bit all the fingers off her right hand and laid them out one by one in the chocolate flake box. Next she pulled out the eye that was hanging limply on her cheek and placed it on the counter, she then emptied out a bottle of strawberry sauce and filled it with her own zombie blood. Finally she took the tub of hundred and thousand sprinkles and emptied it into the bin and filled it with skin gratings from her arms. Surveying what she had done and feeling satisfied she placed on her face a rabbit mask that her boss had made her wear over easter to get the kids to buy more ice cream. At the time it had been a humiliating addition to what was a already garish uniform, and she had thrown it into the glove box as soon as easter was over, but now it would be the perfect disguise to hide her rotten zombie face.

The first parents wandered by and didn't notice the sign, the kids however homed in on the words like rabid zombies home in on a brain buffet. They began to scream and shout that they wanted ice cream, when this didn't immediately work they simply dropped to the floor and kicked and screamed until the parents gave in. The parents stayed where they were and sent the kids over, Polly served them the best most disgusting virus infested ice creams the world has ever seen, complete with zombie blood topping and finger flakes. The kids happily skipped off tucking into their plagued 99 cones laughing and making fun of the silly rabbit lady and her halloween ice creams. This went on all afternoon until Polly had no ice cream left to give away, she sat down happy in the knowledge that very soon the horrible monster children she had had to put up with all summer would soon be turning into real life horrible monster zombie children and ripping their ineffectual middle class parents limb from limb. She opened her book and started to read about the theory of general relativity with a big smile on her face and thought about maybe taking the van for a spin and running some people over...



Friday 8 March 2013


The audience stood and waited in hushed anticipation, this would be the first performance in over four years by the world famous performance artist Mariam Marv Cioban. The crowd were gathered in a large high ceilinged room in a major metropolitan art gallery, the room was devoid of any ornaments or paintings save for two chairs facing each other and a rope to divide the audience from the performance space. Above this in a mezzanine were more spectators looking down on the scene. All in all there were well over 1000 people waiting for the star, she was running late by an hour but, this wasn't a problem for her loyal and devoted fans.

The audience included budding art students hoping to glean a little of that art magic that separates the genius from the mediocre, to art critics writing reviews for art magazines and journals. Also in the audience were a few famous faces but, from movie stars to musicians to humble normal folk, all were united by a common goal, to simply sit with the artist and stare upon her face and see.....nothing less than the meaning of it all.

Unknown to the audience the reason for her late arrival to the performance was because Mariam was quite sick. Her entourage of gallerists, sales people, advisers, make up and costume people were aware that she wasn't well but, as far as they knew it was nothing more than a bad cold. Mariam however knew it wasn't just the flu or even a fever, while out the night before she had been approached by a strange man. Thinking he was a fan of some of her previous work and going to rain praise upon her she let him get closer. By the time she realised he was a blood thirsty zombie out to eat her brains it was too late, he grabbed out and tore at her clothes. His nails raked across her back as she turned to run, she let out a painful scream and managed to pull away. She ran to her front door and was able to get inside and slam it shut before he tore her to pieces. Shook up to say the least, she dragged herself up the flights of stairs to her lavish apartment. Fumbling with her keys she let herself in and headed straight for the bathroom. Taking off the bloodied clothes she surveyed her back in the mirror, twisting her thin frame and craning her neck to see four large scratches running down her spine. Small drops of blood dripped down her legs and pooled about her feet, she shook her head. The sight of blood wasn't unusual to her, she had been involved in many performances that were very physical in their nature and had often shed blood in the name of art. This was different though, this was much much more exciting! After taking a quick shower she took a seat and opened a very good bottle of red wine and picked up the phone to dial her art dealer. Before entering the last number she paused a moment, still holding the phone to her ear she sat and stared blankly at the wall. Why should I tell anyone? she thought. This is just for me, my secret, my pure and heightened moment of real life, it would cheapen it to spread it around like so much gossip. Putting the phone back she took a large gulp of her blood red wine and smiled serenely to herself, she is the great Mariam Marv Cioban, she will control this and use it within her performance, she will unleash this feeling to her adoring fans and let them feel truly alive...

...Sitting in a back room of the gallery Mariam was sweating and shaking, she felt hyper aware of certain sounds around her, the beating of  her gallerists heart was overwhelming. She felt thirst beyond what she had ever known, she could taste blood. Two gallery assistants came into the room and asked her if she would be well enough to perform, Mariam stared through them, got to her feet and made her way out to the performance space to raptures of applause from the audience.

Sitting there staring at the public she knew this was her ultimate artistic statement, she felt so alive, she felt visceral, animal and unhinged. Because of her salivating, heavy breathing and her wild eyed stare people weren't sitting and staring at her for as long as in previous performances. Instead they were moving along very quickly indeed, usually crying and scared s***less as they were helped away. This only added to the crowds excitement. After about an hour it all got too much, Mariam jumped up out her seat suddenly and screamed a blood curdling roar and vomited six pints of blood onto the small mousy art student who unluckily happened to be sat across from her at that moment. Mariam dove headlong onto the art student who was still sat motionless and overjoyed to be covered in the famous Mariam Marv Cioban's puke, she sunk her teeth deep into the students neck and ripped out a huge chunk of gore. Turning wild eyed toward the art critic Walczak Jared Zusman she spat the piece of neck into his face. He screamed with delight at this thinking it was all part of the performance and scribbled a few sychophantic notes in his book. Unfortunately he was too busy looking down at his notes to notice Mariam stalking towards him, just as he looked up she pounced on him and began dry humping him while smashing his head into the concrete floor. People were beginning to suspect that something wasn't quite right, but such is the nature of art these days that anything that happens in an art gallery must surely be art right? So surely Mariam Marv Cioban tearing into the audience is art? This is art.......right? It wasn't until Mariam had disemboweled fourteen more audience members that people started to realise that no, in fact this isn't art at all, this is just absolute bloody murder. They panicked and screamed and stampeded for the exits. Yet more people were injured in the panic running for the doors, hammered and pushed to the floor by the tsunami of bodies, the weaker ones were crushed to death. Mariam ran wildly through the crowd, like a wild lion hunting a herd of dumb beasts. It was an absolute murder hole of carnage.

Meanwhile the people in the mezzanine stood and stared on, still questioning what it was they were witnessing, most of them convincing themselves that this was truly a life affirming piece of pure art, Mariam Marv Cioban's finest and most powerful piece on the frailty of the human condition yet, a true testament to her artistic powers.


Wednesday 6 March 2013


Vanessa had been house bound for years, she'd always struggled to keep her weight in check, trying every diet and exercise program there was. But nothing really stuck, the problem was that Vanessa just loved food and she was fed up with feeling like she had to apologise to people for it. It was her body after all and she didn't see why it was anyone else's business! Things started to look up for Vanessa when she met George online, he just loved big women and they soon formed a very close friendship chatting and sending each other funny pictures of cats wearing sweaters. George moved into her house and they soon realised they were meant to be with each other, the wedding was six weeks later. (a priest had to come to the house because by this point Vanessa couldn't get out of bed)

Sure it wasn't a traditional relationship but, they were happy together and that is all that matters. George would do all the day to day things like going out to get the shopping and cleaning the house while Vanessa would be online running their internet business. (she knitted jumpers for cats and sold them via their website coldkitties.com) The business was doing so well George didn't need another job and was working for it posting out all the orders.

It was while George was out one day that it happened, Vanessa was in bed knitting some cute cat booties for their new autumn line when she heard a strange scraping at the front door. Maybe it's George and he has forgot his keys again and got locked out? The fool is always doing that she thought, he'll soon come round back and let himself in with the key under the mat. Instead the scraping turned into a loud tap.....Vanessa called out, ''Hello? Who's there?'' The tapping started growing louder until it was a huge banging on the door, again and again as if someone was throwing themselves at it. Vanessa freaked out and grabbed the phone and dialled the police, while she was doing this she screamed as loud as she could ''I'm calling the freaking police so you better get the hell out of here!'' This didn't deter them at all and as the police answered the phone she heard the front door smash in and, just as suddenly the phone went dead...

...there was silence then, Vanessa was shaking with fear. She just sat there listening, she could hear laboured breaths,  each breath followed by a gargled click of mucus in the throat. The floorboards creaked, pots and pans were knocked to the floor in a loud crash in the kitchen next door, then her bedroom door opened slowly with a creak...

...George was driving down the road at full speed, he'd just been in town where he'd seen forty zombies tearing through the shopping mall killing everything in their path. George was freaking the flip out and was just turning into the drive of their house when he saw the door was smashed in. He screeched the car to a halt and ran head long into the house. The living room had been smashed to pieces, their things were scattered all over the floor, hundreds of cat sweaters lay strewn about the place. He made his way into the bedroom, there he saw two zombies on the bed chewing at Vanessa. She looked blue, a huge puddle of blood covered the sheets and ran down into the shag carpet, George screamed and grabbed a shard of mirror off the floor and stabbed at the zombies as they ate Vanessa. He pushed the shard deep into the back of their heads and they dropped to the floor. Laying there covered in blood and guts George put his head in his hands and began to cry.

Drying his tears with a cat sweater, (the angora knit was really absorbent) he slapped himself about the face to get control and knew what had to be done. He dragged the zombies out back and covered them in petrol and set them alight, then he moved back to the bedroom. Vanessa was dead, he pulled at the bloodied sheets and tied them around her massive bulk, with all his strength he dragged her corpse to the cellar door. It took all he had to push her obese carcass through the doorway and down the stairs into the cellar. Her massive body rolled down and with a huge crash smashed the stairs as she fell. Good he thought, she won't be able to get out.

He sat down in the living room utterly exhausted with a beer in his hand and surveyed the carnage that used to be his home. A few hours later he heard banging and screaming in the cellar, she'd come back.

George and Vanessa are still happily married these days, he still goes out and does all the errands and she still stays at home. A few things have changed though, George doesn't do the food shopping at the supermarket, instead he drugs unsuspecting people and throws their bodies in the cellar. Vanessa still knits cat sweaters but they now all have knitted cat skull designs on the front. The business is booming with the goth cat owning crowd.

Tuesday 5 March 2013


Jasmine Tamara Darlington Whit was super mad keen on all things yoga. Yoga had changed her life, she just loved all that eastern philosophy tantric, karmic dream catching stuff. She'd even gone vegan and only ever drank green tea....and the occasional glass of red wine.

It was during such a relaxing yoga session when Jasmine was just about to salute the sun that a mass of blood thirsty zombies stormed in. Everyone was so relaxed and totally zen they didn't really react at first. The zombies didn't really know what to do either, they've never come across such a relaxing atmosphere and were far more used to people screaming and running. So when the screaming and running started they were very relieved and got down to the business of the biting and the disemboweling.

Jasmine's legs were all tangled up in the full lotus position so she didn't stand a chance of getting away. Three zombies descended on her and started chewing at her neck, Jasmine wasn't really too super mad keen on this and tried to get them off with a few stern ''shoo! shoos!'' this didn't really work and made her awfully cross. By this point she was feeling a little faint, which is probably for the best because shortly after passing out the zombies tore her head clean off! They didn't eat her all though, the zombies found she tasted far too much like tofu and, zombies aren't really too super mad keen on vegetarian food. So they left her and chased after the other women, who by this point were sprinting full pelt the hell out of there screaming bloody murder.

Jasmine soon turned into a zombie herself and was a little discombobulated to say the least, she could see her own headless body in front of her. On the plus side she noticed how super toned she looked, all that exercise had really paid off and then some. She managed to pick up her head and left to go pick up the kids from school and get dinner ready for the family. Once she'd finished eating the kids she got her yoga mat out in the drawing room and meditated on what she was going to do when her husband got home...

...Jasmine still loves yoga and likes to limber up with a few different positions every morning. The only thing that has changed with her yoga routine is that she now has a little yoga mat for her head. A few other things have changed in her life since turning into a zombie too, she's no longer vegetarian and is now widowed.

Sunday 3 March 2013



She can't remember her name anymore, or the life she used to have. There are dim memories of her final moments, the ripping of flesh, the smell of her own blood, bared teeth and her hands being chewed off just below the wrists. Screaming, thrashing and then, the unbearable heat under her skin, followed by the insatiable hunger for human flesh and brains. She can't remember who she was, the only thing she can remember is how to play, she plays beautifully....but it's just a muscle memory now, hands dragging and dancing over the keys, while the brain remains idle the hands move, machine like over and over and over, playing on forever.

She can't remember who she was, but they remember, not that they speak her name anymore. Her legion of fans were devastated when she was attacked, they fought the zombies off her but it was too late. Not only had she been turned but her arms had been chewed to pieces and now her hands just hung on by a few tendons. They didn't want to give up on her though, the world of music couldn't lose its most talented pianist. They owed it to Art and future generations of music lovers to save her talent, whatever the cost, they were willing to pay it.

Top surgeons were payed very well to put her back together, it was a difficult job and, the results weren't too pretty to look at. However, they managed to save the use of both hands.

To her fans great pleasure as soon as they chained her to the piano she began to play, not only that, she played even more beautifully than when she was alive. Every note hung in the air with a subtle hint of melancholy that could only be achieved by one who had truly suffered for her art...

...there were a few teething problems of course, the fact that she kept incessantly screaming along to the music in an off key howl to name just one. This really put everyone off enjoying the performance, after all they were there to listen to famous classical concertos being performed in a traditional style. Not with crazy avant garde style vocal interpretations thrown in at random intervals, no no, this just wouldn't do at all. They tried tightening her collar but, this didn't really do it. So, they cut her tongue out and removed her vocal chords. Now she just makes a pitiful wheeze, which is thankfully barely audible when she is playing.

At the end of every evening she is fed a bowl of blood and brains to keep her spirits up, then locked up until the next performance. Unknown to the rich elite who pay thousands to hear her play, there is another more socially undesirable type who also enjoys her music. Every night, after she has been locked away and the hordes of fans have long gone, the building janitor sneaks down to the concert hall and lets himself in. There he sits and listens for hours, listens to the same melancholic song she always plays just for him, a lilting repeating lament in a minor key that grows softer and slower with every bar. Until finally all that can be heard is a gentle rasping weeping coming from the undead performer...

...at this the janitor sits in silence watching her cry. And wonders to himself, who are the real monsters?

Friday 1 March 2013


Darlene is a massive gun nut, you can't take her second amendment right to bear arms away, she just loves those big fuzzy bear arms of hers.

When the zombie plague broke out Darlene and her Brother/ fiance Hank were holed up in a fortified bunker in the Nevada desert. They were pretty safe and secure, with plenty of supplies and weaponry. The zombie infestation was basically any crazy right wing gun nuts dream, you get to shoot undead hordes and drink beer all day. Sadly Hank didn't quite anticipate how much beer they'd both consume, so one cold sober day they were forced to venture out and loot the local store for supplies.

This turned out to be a little more difficult than they thought, getting the beers loaded up was no problem, but they made so much noise hooting and hollering they attracted a huge number of blood thirsty zombies. Darlene managed to take a lot of them down with some well placed shots to the head, Hank on the other hand was drunk and a useless shot even when sober. Darlene was swamped with three zombies and, trying to help Hank aimed to shoot them off of her. However Hank managed to completely miss the zombies and instead shot Darlene's jaw off.......

Darlene was more than a little pissed at her siblings complete lack of accuracy and took a pop shot at Hank. (they'd often brandished guns at each other during arguments but this was the first time they had actually opened fire, such is the passions that run redneck hot in a hick romance)

Hank's brains exploded in a shower of 46 IQ grey matter and his body was ripped to bits by the undead, Darlene managed to drag herself back to the pick up truck but, not before being bitten herself. So there she sat alone and sober in the pickup, slowly turning into a flesh eating zombie, on the bright side at least she wasn't turning into a wet lefty liberal...

...She managed to slurp a few beers down her massive face wound before turning into one of the walking dead, in a strange twist of fate turning into a zombie actually increased her IQ.

Darlene is single these days, she still loves guns and actually shoots at the living now she is on the other side, so be careful when approaching her. Don't even think of trying to disarm her, you'll never pry her beloved gun out of her cold dead hands!