Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The wreckage of the Ghoul Train smoldered behind them, casting a sickly green glow over the field of bones. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt flesh and something older, deeper—unsettled.

Draven tightened his grip on his shotgun. "Tell me this isn't another cursed place."

Mira knelt, running her fingers over the charred bones beneath them. "It's worse." She glanced at the Cursed Book, its pages trembling. "These aren't just remains. They're waiting."

A low, distant rumble rolled beneath their feet.

Elias flicked his lighter open. "Waiting for what?"

The answer came in a horrific, splintering sound—the bones shifted. At first, it was subtle, a mere shudder in the graveyard of remains. Then, the field came alive.

Skeletal hands erupted from the ground.

Some were charred, others ancient and brittle, yet all clawed their way toward the surface, rattling with unnatural hunger. Hollow skulls snapped upright, their eye sockets burning with an eerie green fire—the same color as the cursed flames from the wrecked train.

Zara stumbled back, cursing. "Nope. Not dealing with this. We need to move!"

The first bonewalker rose—a twisted fusion of multiple skeletons, its limbs jagged and wrong, shifting with a grotesque fluidity. It lunged.

Draven fired. The blast shattered its ribcage, but instead of falling, the broken bones twisted back together, forming something even more nightmarish.

"They don't stay down!" Elias shouted.

Mira frantically flipped through the Book, searching for a counterspell. "They're bound to the land! We need to—"

Before she could finish, something massive stirred in the distance.

A colossal ribcage broke through the ground, followed by a skull the size of a house. Its jaws unhinged, releasing a deep, bone-shaking wail. The King of the Dead had risen.

Draven's face darkened. "We're so screwed."

The giant skeletal behemoth began to move, its titanic limbs crushing smaller bonewalkers beneath it. The green fire in its skull flared, illuminating the night with a ghostly glow.

Mira's eyes darted across the Book's pages. "I think I found something!"

"Then hurry!" Elias growled, swinging a rusted pipe at a bonewalker, shattering its skull—only for it to reform immediately.

Mira pressed her hand to the sigil on the page, chanting in a whisper. The wind shifted, and the bones hesitated, their eerie glow flickering.

The King of the Dead turned its massive, flaming gaze toward her. It knew.

The Book burned in her hands, the spell reaching its climax.

The ground convulsed—and then, in a violent shockwave, the bones collapsed, turning to dust. The giant skull crumbled, its fire snuffed out.

The field fell silent.

Draven exhaled. "That was close."

But from the shadows, something else watched, unseen.

And it whispered.

"She wields the Book. She must be taken."