Dead Man Monologue

Register to read the introduction… He worked to steady himself on to the bank of the creek as excess water from the stream drained off him. I thought he might have been in his mid-thirties, but there was no way for me to tell for sure, he was just too monstrous. I did know for sure that he must have been a male given the long overcoat, white dress shirt, and a black bow tie which he still adorned. Although it had seen better days, now shredded, burnt, and covered in muck and ichors which appeared to be old blood and flesh. The man let out a moan that sounded as if he were choking. The resonance was dry and gasping as if he were making an attempt talk but his throat seemingly to be still filled with dirt. He awkwardly shuffled in our direction. The stench which came off him could only be described as five-day-old roadkill on a hundred degree …show more content…
Still others came from the creek and the gravel trail behind us. Scenes of great suffering, moans, wails, tormented screams and the sounds of bones snapping and shifting into place echoed in from all around us while also reverberating of the walls of the bridges substructure creating a cacophony of horror that shook me to my core. More of Frankenstein’s travel companions materialized from the formerly still waters of the creek. The ground directly behind Charlie caved in and split into a newly formed crevasse as a set of twisted and rotten hands emerged followed by an equally grotesque head and neck. We were now surrounded by a small army of the living dead, or opportunity to hightail our asses out of there long passed. If I had to guess I would have said forty-nine of them in total, the exact number that had died on the train wreck all those years ago. Forty-nine lost souls waking up from their hundred fifty year slumber. As more came into the little clearing that was our camp I could see that every one of them was maimed and broken in one way or another—none of them had been left unscathed by the