Home > Book, Flash Fiction, Horror > A Quick Bite of Flesh now available

A Quick Bite of Flesh now available

I am happy to be able to share the release of an anthology that I am included in. “A Quick Bite of Flesh”, is now available from Amazon on the Kindle.

This is a collection of flash fiction stories that all focus on zombies. It was produced by Hazardous Press and I have been lucky enough to have two stories included.

The first story is the entry that I submitted to this anthology. It’s titled, “Like Father, Like Son” and is a zombie story that is set in the old west. I was excited to be included in the anthology but when I was asked for another of my stories I was stunned.

The editor, Robert Helmbrecht, had followed the links to this blog that I include in my signature and read through some of it. He is the first editor that has ever requested any of my work. For me, this was a compliment that I will never forget. So of course, I have removed that story, “Scouts”, from the site and I can’t wait to see them both in the anthology.

There are a total of 55 different stories in the anthology that cover the range from gory or terrifying to humorous and light-hearted so no matter what your taste (sorry, I couldn’t resist this pun) in zombie fiction is, you will find something to suit your palate (I will stop with the puns now, I promise) in this collection.

Check it out and I hope you like it.

L. E. White

White Noise

There is something settling in a slow, repetitious noise. “White Noise”, I think it’s called. I remember seeing ads in magazines for machines that would generate this to help you sleep.

My wife always insisted on a fan. We would have it turned on, blowing on us in the summer and just turned on facing the door in the winter. The slow buzzing hum of the motor and the whirring sounds of the blades produced our white noise.

When we were first married, I hated that fan. I hadn’t grown up with on in the room, so it was new and annoying to me. She had grown up in the city, surrounded by late night people, cars, trains and whatever else happened to be up and making noise. I would imagine that a constant thing, like a fan, would have helped drown out other noises that would jar you awake. I understood why she had always had one.

I had grown up in the woods. I was raised out in the middle of bumblefuck on a bumpy county road that only led further back into nothing. When I lay down at night, I heard insects and animals. It never bothered me to hear a hooting owl or the high-pitched yelps of hunting coyote. The most common, and annoying night-time interruption that I ever had was when something spooked the neighbor’s dogs. Those coon hounds would bay and howl, their mournful voices carried down the creek beds and valleys to whip their way around our house, but even then, that was really all that bad. My white noise was provided by the wind that rustled through the limbs of the maple trees that my grandfather had planted around the house back when he had built it over a hundred years ago.

I put up with that fan for the first few years, complaining and bitching from time to time if she pulled the blanket up around her neck so that my toes would stick out the bottom and get chilled by the draft, but eventually I stopped noticing the fan.

White noise has that effect on you.

Years later, I came to a point where I would complain if she got into bed last and forgot to turn the fan on. I had been converted. She took great delight in pointing this fact out until she got into bed and I would tickle her for the “I told you so’s” that she was giving me. That tickling always made its way to much more physical tussling done under the covers to keep from catching a chill from that self-same fan.

When the power went out, we had trouble sleeping because of the lack of that fan. It was such a small thing to complain about considering the gravity of the situation, but like most people, we complained about the things that were most prominent in our own lives at the time.

Until the day that the first of the monsters found their way to our farm.

I was out in the field, working on our garden when I saw the pallid, graying thing stumble out of the woods towards me. If it had not been for the news that we heard about the rising of the dead I wouldn’t have believed it. I would have made the same mistake that so many other people had made, I would have tried to help it.

Instead, I picked up the shovel that I had beside me and waited for it to get closer. I could have shot it, my old lever action rifle was beside of me, but the news had said that the zombies, a word that I never thought I would ever in all my days say out loud, were attracted by loud noises and that if you could avoid doing it, kill them without shooting them. So I stood there, outside of the garden, watching the trees for others and when it got close I hit it in the head with my shovel.

I didn’t think I wanted it as fertilizer, so I tied baler twine around its foot and drug that stinking thing away into the field. With any luck, it would keep the deer away from my tomatoes.

I went home to tell my wife about what had happened. I walked through the late summer grass toward the farm, looking back to see if any more had come out of the trees, when I heard a rifle shot. That was when I started running.

More shots sounded, and before I could get through the barn lot, I heard a scream.

I killed the thing that was trying to eat my wife alive. A few of those stinking things had walked up behind her while she was outside washing clothes. The pistol I had bought her one year had been well used, killing three of them, but the fourth had gotten a hold of her before she could put a bullet in its head.

I sat there, stroking her hair and wiping my tears off of her face as she whimpered. I know that the right thing to do would have been to kill her. She was in pain and there was no way she was going to survive, but I couldn’t have turned off the light in her eyes for the world. She was my world and I knew that my world was coming to an end.

She died as she whispered, “I love you”, through a bloody bubble that had been formed on her lips.

I sat on the ground, crying and snotting, for hours. I could no more get up than I could have shot her. So I sat there and stared at her face without looking down at the wounds.

When the moon had risen and then sat again, I got up on stiff legs to hobble into the house. I had intended to get the matches so that I could burn the body, but I had sat outside to long and when I walked back to the door she was standing up and rocking from side to side. She had risen and I would have to shoot her to be able to burn her body.

I still couldn’t stomach the idea, so I just shut the door as easy as I could and went upstairs to bed. I now lie here wishing I had the white noise of that damned fan to drown out the sound of her nails clawing at the kitchen door.

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Categories: Book, Flash Fiction, Horror
  1. September 28, 2012 at 5:14 PM

    What an interesting introduction to a zombie story, and what a cruel twist of fate to leave him like that, the last paragraph just ties it all up so nicely, the cherry on the cake.

    • October 1, 2012 at 6:57 AM

      Thanks. I am glad you liked it.

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