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face-eating-zombie

The Face Eating Florida Zombie

1 Comment 01 June 2012


I’ve been getting questions all over the place about whether I was going to post anything about the zombie naked man in Florida that ate a homeless man’s face off. I wasn’t going to but I’ve been reading the Shining and felt like writing a quick bit of creative nonfiction. Blame Stephen King. I wrote this in about 30 minutes, and I’ve never actually shared any shorts I’ve written, so be kind. Oh, also, listen to this while you read.



In his dope-induced daze the scorched, filthy concrete blurred in and out, in and out. Half asleep he dreamt of a more prosperous past. School, home, work. Words that no longer applied. He dreamt of a beach, and the waves gently covering the sand and pulling back out again dragging a curtain of soft foam. The sand would shift to the hot Florida concrete and then back to sand again and his eyelids drooped and closed under the weight of his high. The syringe still dangled from his arm, although he had the presence to loosen the canvas belt he had wrapped and secured so tightly around his forearm. The needle never seemed to bother him but that God damned belt felt like a vice after a few minutes and would tug at his high like an anchor.

His head dipped and stayed down until a shadow fell across the sand (concrete?) and pulled at the edge of consciousness. He looked up into a cloudless sky and squinted against it until the shadow fell over his face as well. A man stood there. It was like looking in a mirror. The same slack jaw and glassy eyes. Was he dreaming this as well? He must be. It was the only explanation as the Stranger bent over to kiss him. “How odd,” he thought, “he’s about to kiss me on my nose.” He felt his hot, rank breath on his face, and looked into those glassy, black eyes as the Stranger closed his mouth down over his nose. He must be dreaming, it’s the only reason he didn’t scream as the Stranger’s teeth dug into his flesh, and in one monstrous motion, ripped half of his nose off his face. He almost laughed as his blood sprayed onto the Stranger’s face, like oil bursting from a cracked hose in the engine bay of an old import. His blood spatter almost looked like freckles, and for some reason that was devilishly funny to him. A half smile started to tug at the corner of his mouth, and stood a good chance of actually forming had the Stranger not clamped his hungry jaws on his cheek next. Flesh tore away and he looked closely at the teeth clenching a good portion of his left cheek. The teeth were yellow, and ragged, and dangerous. This was not a good dream. The teeth opened and his fleshy cheek disappeared into the man’s mouth. He wanted to scream. He wanted to move, run, fight back. But his body slept. The Stranger swallowed and came in for another deadly kiss, finishing off the cheek he had started on. Apparently, he thought with the same black humor he had been known for in another life, his face was delicious.

There were now two possibilities:
1) He was dreaming the worst dream of his life. He would wake up soon, the day would be gone, and he would go back to the alley behind that fancy hotel and see what perfectly good room service had been tossed half-eaten into the dumpster out back.
2) He was awake and a man was slowly eating his face off, piece by bloody piece.

He felt his eyelids droop again. He was sleepy. He heard waves. He looked down, away from the Stranger. Sand blew across the concrete. The hot liquid pouring into his mouth started to lose it’s iron taste. Thank God. The light faded and his dream (reality?) went with it. Maybe when he woke up this would all be over. Maybe when he woke up his face would be whole—dirty and unshaven, sure—but whole. Maybe when he woke up there wouldn’t be a dark shadow with yellow teeth and crimson freckles looming over him, slowly eating him alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe.




Hey, it’s me again. I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m being flippant here. This is one of the most horrible things I’ve seen. Truly unreal, and I can’t imagine how this guy feels waking up. But sometimes… you just gotta write some f’ed up shit. Also, we all know this was actually a zombie right? I mean, bath salts? Really?

Your Comments

1 comment

  1. JDub says:

    Nice work. If I was a good writer I would do a companion piece from the zombie’s perspective.


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