When the sun sneaks above the horizon he is awake to see it but that's the only thing in his life that one can envy
He never dreamed of being this although he never dreamed of being a factory worker either but that's what he was before
His truck stalls he hopes it doesn't work on the second try but it does
He drives on out into the field the fact that the smell of rotted flesh doesn't bother him anymore bothers him
He spots one a blonde girl she might have been beautiful at one point but now its hair and teeth had mostly fallen out and its skin is was covered in sores and scrapes
Its emaciated body reminds him of those TV commercials that used to air about starving kids in Ethiopia she could have won Miss America with that body he thinks what a shame the corpse gives one last kick of life as if to say *******, dude
No matter how many times he'd seen it before it still kind of freaks him out
He shoots it in the head just to be sure
Then he and his partner lift the body and heave it into the truck bed
Blood leaking from the bullet hole gets on his jeans **** it he thinks That'll take forever to get out
Later, when he lights the match he always thinks that he should say a prayer or something but he never does
After work he visits the bar spending the rest of his night trying to forget what he does for a living
Sanctuary 251 is a concept I have for a Post-Zombie-apocalypse tale that takes place ten years after the infection began spreading. People live "normal" lives in little towns with thick high walls called "Sanctuaries." There are several character poems I want to do from this concept.