Gideon Hallett (gmh) wrote,
Gideon Hallett
gmh

Just for a change...

It's been a while since I wrote anything original (and this probably isn't either), but I can't help but remember a story idea I discussed with captainlucy outside the Transylvanian restaurant in Dublin during PCon 2008. And while I don't have the time even for a short short story right now, I've come up with a drabble for it.



They were a threat. How could they not be?

It was not, strictly speaking, their fault; but they were there, and they could not be ignored.

Simple creatures of appetite and action; dangerous to a degree, but controllable.

They could be kept.

Contained.

(Picture the camps; orderly rows of huts and outbuildings; rationality and cost-efficiency overlaid on the bedrock of horrifying abomination.)

Processed.

(Because you have a by-product; and by-products all too often go astray.)

Someone joined the dots; and made a monstrosity.

The day they discovered that zombies taste like chicken.

That was … the day that conscience died.

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