He lived on a small island. His boat was his lifeline to the mainland. While he could fish in the waters surrounding the island, if he wanted other supplies he had to row across the water. The problem was the mainland was now infested with hordes of zombies he wished to avoid, which made getting supplies from the supermarkets within striking range a bit more problematic. Only last month he got clawed by one of them. Once he got back to the island he disinfected and treated the wound, and it seemed to heal up okay.
Supplies were beginning to run low again, and he knew he had to head back over the water soon. It was something he never looked forward to. He looked in the mirror and saw his grey face stare back. He could really go for some brains right now. Nice warm fresh brains. Mmm mm.
Word count: 150
This was written with the photo prompt provided by Crimson’s Creative Challenge #75.
It’s a little bit late, but I only thought of this story while I was on my way to the supermarket this evening.
©2020 Joanne Fisher