If zombies were real, you wouldn’t first be warned by the approaching horde by their smell, by their groans, not even a cloud of smoke of the dust they raise coming closer from the horizon. It would be the flies. Hordes and hordes of insects, corpse-flies laying eggs on the carcasses of people who still walk, eating the eyeballs from their sockets, climbing across their unfeeling leathery skin. And the buzzing. The inescapable, deafening buzzing. Everywhere. Like you did not just kick a hornet’s nest, but the very ground you walk on was a hornet nest, and each step caused another explosion of insects.
Insects, corpse flies, the buzzing. Their swarms blacken the skies, more horrifying than their migrating meals. The deafening cacophony of constant buzzing, the horrid noise of the living who feast on the dead who feast on the living. The buzzing.
The endless, inescapable buzzing.
Hey OP, thanks for the visceral horror with my breakfast. Really pairs well with the sense of impending doom.
Thanks. I was out in the woods picking blueberries today. There were bugs.
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