Awakening

• Bronagh Mcdermott, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2013

The wind blew gently through the abandoned museum. Dinosaur skeletons still stood tall, towering over the entrance and the living remains of the final humans wandered about aimlessly on their never-ending search for food.
Just beyond the smashed glass doors of the museum lay a frail young woman. Her hair was knotted and dirty, skin turned grey with death. The cool breeze played upon her face and she awoke slowly, as if from a deep sleep. Above her was the once beautiful skylight, now with a large hole and jagged glass below. It was the first thing she saw as she woke up, and she turned her head to the left (bones cracking and sighing) and looked at the fragile pieces of smashed glass.
Did I do that? she thought.
Carefully she began to rise, soon realising her right arm was stuck under the corpse of a small girl. She looked upon her body with wide unmoving eyes and something within her stirred, as if she’d known her in a past life.
The girl was certainly dead. Her skull was cracked and features bloodied, she lay close next to the woman and her fists were closed and held tight to her tiny frame. With weak bones the woman gradually freed her hand from under the girl.
She did not blink as her huge bloodshot eyes searched the room. Her thoughts were fleeting and far-between, but she was quite sure of two things: it was very cold, and she was very afraid.
She heaved her body up, desperately trying to recall where she was and what she was doing there.
Across the room a shining pane of glass caught her attention and she mindlessly stumbled over to it, as she came closer a realisation dawned on her. It was a mirror. She cocked her head slowly to the side, and stared at her body. Her skin was paled and peppered with bloody cuts and dark bruises, and the blue of her eyes had faded and become grey. She had once been chubby; some would say fat, but now her body was gaunt and thin, her bones angular and features hollow.
She felt as if she would cry as she looked at the monster before her, but no tears came. Her whole body was dusty and dry. With creaking joints she lifted her hand and put it to her heart.
There was no beat.
She was a scab of a human, no pain or blood, no beating heart, only her thoughts which became more distorted and meaningless by the second.
Her eyes met once again with the dirty mirror and her silhouette of a body. Behind her reflection something stirred.
She spun around and her body twitched with fear. Finally her eyes landed upon the frozen figure of a teenage boy. Their eyes met, and her pupils dilated his scent filled her nose.
Mindlessly her body lunged forward at the boy, thrashing and screeching.
She was gone. The zombie had taken over.