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🌼 Meadow: A Zombie in Bloom
It’s well past midnight and a slight fog settles over a moonlit meadow, wildflowers creep among a few crumbling tombstones of a long-forgotten graveyard.
She was known as Meadow a once-lively and happy soul, now caught between life and death.
Moonlight reveals forget-me-nots and daisies entwined in her hair, growing from her head, their petals brushing against gray, mottled skin.
Rotting… and still she is beautiful in her decayed state.
Tiny forget-me-nots grow in a wild bouquet from her scalp, each bloom a quiet plea etched in blue: remember me. Her once-bright eyes have turned pale and glassy, but deep within flickers a sorrowful glimmer, as if she still dreams of the life that was stolen away.
A mess of bats flitters overhead, tracing silent arcs above the crooked iron fence that cages this patch of haunted earth. In the hush of the night, a lone raven sits on a creaking tree branch, while a black cat perches by a rotting gatepost.
They watch curiously as the wind drifts through her weathered and frayed petals.
Like a long-plucked flower, her flesh has withered, but somehow, she still blooms.
Plucked from life and “planted” here by a madman’s cruel hand, she has blossomed into an undead guardian of sorrow. Yet there is grace in her decay, it flows into haunting beauty.
But if you dare look too long, you will notice the disturbing details.
The dead eyes, streaked with tiny bloody veins that disturbingly wiggle beneath the surface…
The gaping wound where her heart should be, insead it’s now a rotten crater, encrusted with long-dried blood and teeth torn flesh.
There she sits, sharing a wordless vigil with the forgotten.
In this cursed garden of unwilling blooms, Meadow stands as a quiet embodiment of memory and innocence, a wildflower bride eternally keeping watch.
She was not buried.
She was planted.
A Zombie Beauty in Bloom.
🌼 “Continue reading for the beginning of my story, I’ll be waiting. There’s more you need to know. Something else is starting to bloom.”
— Meadow
