Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The sirens had long gone quiet.

The roads were painted with blood and tire tracks. Buildings leaned like wounded giants. And from the rooftop of the apartment they once called home, Leo watched the sky turn from gold to gray.

Beside him, she stood—her hair windswept, her eyes hollowed by sleepless nights and too much loss.

Her name was Cassia.

And she had been bitten.

Leo found her an hour ago, collapsed in the stairwell, teeth marks on her shoulder, eyes flickering with fading hope.

He had screamed.

She had only whispered, "It's okay."

But it wasn't.

Nothing was.

They used to dance on this roof.

Before the outbreak.

Before the broadcasts went silent.

Before love became another kind of war.

It was where he had first told her, "I love you."

And where she had kissed him like the world would never end.

Now it was where it was ending.

She sat on the edge now, feet dangling over a sea of chaos. The moans below were a constant symphony of death. But up here, the wind still smelled like rain. Like her.

Leo joined her, wrapping his arm around her even as her skin began to chill.

"I don't want to turn here," she said, voice cracking.

"You won't," he promised, even if he didn't know what he meant.

They talked about meaningless things—how they met in college, how she used to burn toast, how he never learned to whistle. It was almost funny.

Almost.

Until she coughed. And blood touched her lips.

"I can't feel my fingers," she murmured.

Leo looked at her hands. They were trembling.

Time was running out.

He pulled out the pistol. One bullet left.

She saw it. Nodded.

But then, she did something that shattered him.

She kissed him.

Not desperately. Not weakly.

She kissed him the way she used to—like love was stronger than the dead.

"Promise me," she whispered against his lips. "Don't waste it."

"What?"

"Don't waste the bullet. Use it for yourself… when it's time."

Leo shook his head. "Cass—"

But she was already standing.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Not from fear.

From peace.

From choice.

From goodbye.

She turned before she could lose control.

Walked to the edge.

Looked back.

Smiled.

And jumped.

Leo screamed. Dropped to his knees. The pistol slid from his hand.

But she had made her choice.

She kissed him goodbye… so she wouldn't ever hurt him.

And down below, among the rot and ruin,

a woman's body lay still—

her lips curved in defiance against death.

That night, Leo lit a candle on the rooftop.

He sang the song she used to hum.

And whispered her name until morning came.

Because in the world of the undead,

sometimes love doesn't survive.

But it remembers.