30 Days Of Undead Summer

Birth of a Hero

#FridayFreeForAll

During times of distress, a hero is not born but made. In the back stables of Milton-upon-Cresten, I watched mother devour the face of my father.

*

With nothing more than fear as my resolve, I burst through the kitchen doors. Mother whirled about with the speed of a snake. My eyes saw and my hands reached for her favourite carving knife. Her sluggish body lunged at the same time that I thrust the blade sideways into her skull. The ease by which the blade entered as her eyes widened in shock would haunt me for many years to come. For few would know woe as I do, if watching whatever creature your mother had become slump to the floor - dead by your own hands.

Father groaned and I rushed to him, clutching him as I watched death fast approach the confused grey eyes staring unseeing up at me. That was before a new light... no a new darkness enveloped him. With it, a semblance of life that bore no resemblance to my father. For he was a gentle man but a new strength roared to life and his body lunged atop me.

Teeth bared, he sought to rip through my throat. I raised an arm and felt the crunch of his bite but not the pain. Immediately I praised the Great Gods for the wooden arm brace that had helped beyond merely strengthening me. As I attempted to crawl back, my hands slipped on mother's blood, still seeping from her wound. I grabbed for the blade, disgusted at how easily it pulled from her skull with a soft pop. In the same moment, I drove the blade into father's eye.

His howls resounded across the room.

Within my head.

Echoed towards his fellow undead kin.

Unable to mourn I moved quickly to the kitchen door, but two of the creatures blocked the way. A deathly stench wafted from their bared teeth. Sallow skin succumbing to putrefaction. These were the Massey sisters from across the road. So young and now no more than undead husks cloying for my flesh.

Shutting the door would be of no use. I rushed through the house and into my room. Barring the door with what furniture I could. From beyond the window I realised none had come around from behind. As quietly as possible, I edged the window open and snuck out into the setting sun.

I snuck along the house towards the stables themselves, where what little horses we had shook with fright. They calmed somewhat at my sight but I knew death would come for them too.

I unhinged one of the steeds. From its hay I withdrew a hidden blade a noble had left behind. It was the blade I hoped to wield one day well enough to become a knight.

Now the time had come. Knight or not, I would embrace the steel and reclaim my village.

My name is Holden Price, and I shall be the sword of vengeance.