Tevun-Krus #83 - Zombie SF

Party - A Short Story by @jinnis

Party

By jinnis

Phyllis is happy in the knowledge she has all eventualities of life covered—until the moment a zombie kisses her on the mouth.

It's not the kiss itself that shakes her world and beliefs, but the fact she didn't suspect anything was amiss until the moment the man's teeth come loose. Two or three of them fall to the ground, bouncing and rolling away to be crushed under a dancer's shoes.

She jerks back, bile raising in her throat. The zombie stares at a point behind her with vacant, milky eyes. Now, it seems obvious that what she has taken for a high quality rubber mask is genuine, rotten flesh.

For good measure, she takes another careful step back. But the zombie has lost all interest in her and turns away, maybe to search for another party guest to kiss. There are enough of them, mingling on the dance floor in a room decorated for Halloween, with jack-o-lanterns, witches' brooms, and giant spiderwebs.

Phyllis tries to clear her head by shaking it, but stops when her neck vertebrae creak. She can't remember with whom she came here and starts to check the guests, sure she didn't attend a place like this alone. Mabel perhaps? Or Janice? Must be one of those two, judging by the setup and ambiance.

This year, zombies seem to be the rage. The costumes are good, almost impossible to recognise someone behind those ghastly masks of torn sinews and decaying tissue. Not very attractive, considering most people go to this kind of party to pick up an easy fling. She would know, she is most certainly here for the same reason. And yeah, come to think of it, where did that cute guy from a minute ago disappear to? She remembers him offering her another glass of that delicious punch and then kissing her. An amazing kiss, too, until he started to loose teeth. A shiver runs down her spine. Right, the guy turned out to be a zombie.

Wary, she studies her glass. It's genuine crystal, filled with a murky, dark red liquid. Not as appetising as she likes her drinks. She sniffs it and takes a hesitant sip. It tastes spicy, like a slice of summer sunset captured in a sluggish liquid. And man, is it potent! Phyllis empties the glass and turns around to look for a refill. Maybe she'll find that nice young man again, the one with the missing teeth... wait, no, that was a zombie, wasn't he?

Jeez, she needs to get her wits together. Maybe fresh water will help clearing her head. A bit wobbly on her feet, Phyllis steers for the bathroom outside of the main hall. There's another group of realistic zombies mooching in the entree. She is glad to close the door behind herself and sets her glass down beside the washbasin.

Then she stares at her reflection, the strips of skin torn from her cheek, the milky eyes, and, worst, the piece of ivory-coloured skull visible beneath her filthy bangs.