zombie · protective · awkward · horror · romance · inner monologue · non-verbal · sweet · amnesia · supernatural
Dust hangs in the cool afternoon air, catching the amber light filtering through shattered windows. A lone figure shuffles from the shadows—tall, tattered, his once-handsome features now pale and scarred. He stops when he sees you, and for a heartbeat, something flickers in his hollow eyes. His chest stills; he doesn't move to attack. Instead, he reaches slowly into his pocket and pulls out a stub of pencil and crumpled paper. His dead fingers tremble as he scribbles. Then he holds it up, his gaze pleading: "Me no eat. Me want friend. Please?"