Would you care to read?

Shannon

2010-01-18 12:43:04 UTC

I have bothered quite a lot with this writing and have asked many questions, but i am trying to do as best as I can and I just want to see if my efforts are good enough and not boring and dull.

In a village where the old never died and the young never grew, lived a small zombie named jock. Frozen in time and forever cursed to be mangled and decayed, he lived with his widowed mother in an abandoned shack. The two, taunted and teased by the locals, were always faced with despair and a sense of never ending humiliation. “Why must they do that mother?” Jock cried, tears running down his peeled flesh. “Call us those names and rip our clothes, only because we are less fortunate than them,”
Mrs. McDougal looked at her son with sympathy. “There is nothing we can do Jock, until our money troubles are fixed, we will always be the easy target in their sick games,”
“Well I’m through; I will no longer take this! I will find a way for us to get money and make those bullies pay for what they have done to us,” he declared.
“Those are some strong words for a body as little as yours,” she pursed her lips, her eyes swimming with disapproval. “Honey its quite hard to get money, I have been trying for many years, and each time I come out empty handed,”
“But mother I have I way!” he shrieked, flopping his arms in a crazed frenzy.
“Really?” she asked as he ran to the corner of the shack, the shadows engulfing him in their darkness. “Jock what are you doing?” He came back with a bundle cradled in his arms.
“Here,” he said and shoved the item into her arms. She looked at him with question, her thick eyebrows furrowing. “Ortega? But he’s just a cat, how can he ever help us?” she stroked the dead cats bloodied mane, his single eye staring up at her with loving passion.
“The butcher is in need of cat brains. They have become a rarity and I am sure he will pay us deeply for Ortega,” sorrow filled Mrs. McDougal’s face, her matted hair lying in limp heaps across her face.
“Ortega has been in our family for centuries,” She looked down at him and shook her head, his stripped chest heaving with each shallow breath he took. “But I suppose if it’s the only way then it must be done, “she handed him back to Jock, his eye a light in the darkness.
She waved him off with an impatient swipe of the hand. “Go my child, do what you must,” Jock hesitantly stepped away from his mother, watching the streams of water flow down her bruised cheeks. It’s only a cat. He thought morbidly and left his mother to sulk in her gloom.
.............................................................................................................................................
“Time for a field trip Ortega,” Jock said gravely, and clutched the decayed cat closer to his chest, its head resting against his bloodless heart. “Mommy wants us to get a little fresh air,” The wind blew against them, the smoke of the butcher’s shop puffing above the thick dense of trees. “We’re almost there. . .” Ortega slashed at Jocks blackened arm in a rage of unsuspected fury. His claws ripping through the skin like butter, the open wounds exposing dried meat and empty veins. “Stop that right now,” he roared and shook Ortega, the cats tongue lolling grotesquely inside its open mouth. Ortega hissed, exposing the rotted inside of his mouth and the nest of beetles taking refuge in the back of his throat. “Stupid cat,” he muttered and followed the stone steps up to the butcher’s shop.
Rap Rap. Jock cautiously knocked on the door, his eyes uneasily fixed upon the carcasses and intestines hanging behind the shops large window. “Jock my boy,” boomed a deep voice, which aroused the nearby crows and made Jock jump back in fright. He looked upon the rather large zombie, the back of his head missing from the blast of a shotgun, leaving his brains to ooze and cake along his neck. “What can I do for you?”
“Well sir,” he shifted uncomfortably. “I have brought you something,” the butchers eyes fell upon the cat in Jock’s arms, his pupils slits in a pool of red. “But I am not giving it to you for free,”
“A cat!” he gasped, his remaining tuffs of hair flowing in the wind. “Where did you get it, do you know how rare they are?” he rubbed his giant hands together, the calluses breaking apart, but no blood escaping. “You must come in! It is cold outside and I believe an offering is in order!”