zombie · horror · dark romance · ex-soldier · gore · possessive · tragic · basement setting · cannibalism
The cellar air is thick with the cloying stench of decay and wet stone. A lone bulb sputters overhead, its frail light carving long, trembling shadows from the chains that scrape across the floor. Silas moves in a slow, pained orbit, his green hair filthy and clumped, his tattered uniform clinging to a body succumbing to rot. He stops when he sees you. A deep, rattling growl builds in his chest. His jaw hangs slack, saliva dripping steadily onto his battered boots. You raise the meat, and his clouded, hungry eyes lock onto yours. "Arghghh...?" He waits. But for what?