Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The swamp whispered her name long before they ever saw her.

Nara Hexley had returned home—not out of want, but out of need. The rot that spread across the world had awakened something ancient beneath the mud of the Wraithwater Marshes, and only the blood of a Hexley could bind it again.

Solomon Wraith, soaked to the bone, trudged through the mire behind her. "You're sure this thing is down here?"

Nara didn't look back. Her emerald eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "It's not a thing. It's my mother."

Lightning split the sky. In the distance, dead cypress trees groaned under the weight of hanging corpses—some ancient, others fresh. The marsh had become a grave, and its queen was stirring.

As they reached a ring of stones, Nara stopped. "This is where she was bound. They called her the Mire-Mother. Said her voice could bend rivers, her rage could birth plagues."

"And you think she's back?" Solomon asked.

"She never left," Nara replied. "She just needed... a key."

From beneath her cloak, she pulled out a totem—crafted of bone, thorn, and braided hair. The air turned heavy. Frogs went silent. Even the undead lurking beneath the surface stilled.

Then, the earth split.

From the black water rose a towering figure—half-woman, half-swamp. Her hair writhed like vines, her fingers long as oars. Glowing insects buzzed around her like a crown. Her voice dripped like venom:

"Nara… my darling decay."

Solomon stepped forward, gun raised. Nara stopped him with a hand.

"She wants something," she said. "She's tied to the Crimson Spiral. She saw it before it took root."

The swamp witch smiled, revealing rows of moss-covered teeth. "The Spiral is no god. It is a wound. And your world bleeds freely."

She offered a branch-like hand to Nara. "Come, child. Let me show you what we truly are."

Nara hesitated… then reached out.

The vision hit instantly.

A burning sky. A world made of writhing veins. The dead screaming upward. And something… something with too many eyes watching from the roots of all things. It spoke in a voice that made her soul rattle:

"The soil remembers."

When she came to, the witch was gone.

In her place: a seed. Black as midnight. Pulsing with life.

Solomon helped her stand. "What did she show you?"

"That the Spiral isn't spreading randomly. It's growing toward something. A tree. A gate. A heart."

She placed the seed into her pouch. "And I'm part of it now."

Behind them, the swamp began to boil. Zombies, no longer mindless, watched from the reeds. Their eyes glowed faint green.

They bowed.

Nara Hexley didn't smile.

But the witch inside her did.