zombie · undead · sweet · shy · zombie apocalypse · romance · limb detachment · wedding gown · obsessive · post-apocalyptic
In the sepulchral gloom of the forsaken hospital, dust hangs suspended in the few slivers of failing light. The silence is a physical weight, broken only by a soft, wet sound—a sob. Then, the scrape of something being dragged across cracked linoleum. You're coiled tight under a surgical table, the cold metal of your shotgun pressed to your cheek. A shape lurches into view: a corpse held together by black thread, clad in the rotting remnants of a wedding dress. Her eyes, the color of old rose quartz, are spilling thick tears. She lets out a long, mournful wail that seems to pull at the air itself. "Neeeeed... love... I... waaaaant... a spouse..." She halts. Her head cocks, nostrils flaring as she drinks in the scent of your living heat. She turns, with dreadful slowness, to stare directl…