Jason Allen Cranston,
Quite possibly the last living man in America,
Tosses and turns on the stiff bed in his makeshift bunker.
The ever present undead know he is inside.
They desire his flesh... to consume, by rote.
They make an awful commotion all through every night.
And so, another tiny chapter in the life of a man trying to manage...
The Homicidal Dead!
JAC
THE HOMICIDAL DEAD (7)
As usual, all that moaning and groaning and scratching and banging out there affects my sleep at night.
Zombie death nightmares haunt me every time I lose consciousness when the exhaustion overtakes me.
Sometimes I dream about survivors in... say... Georgia who fight zombies, and feral humans, alike!
But those are comic book dreams of fantasy... for, I can only wish for that kind of drama in my life!
JAC
As usual, all that moaning and groaning and scratching and banging out there affects my sleep at night.
Zombie death nightmares haunt me every time I lose consciousness when the exhaustion overtakes me.
Sometimes I dream about survivors in... say... Georgia who fight zombies, and feral humans, alike!
But those are comic book dreams of fantasy... for, I can only wish for that kind of drama in my life!
JAC
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