My daughter has been working on a zombie novel. She is very excited about it. It’s a about a kid named TJ and begins with him day-dreaming in school about this girl, Debbie, that he kind of likes. After that the structure gets a bit fuzzy, but still it sounds cool.
Anyway, it got me to thinking that maybe it is time I started work on my own zombie novel. I’ve been kicking one around in my head for awhile now.
Here is the opening:
For the past thirty-seven hours I have been trapped in my ex-wife’s attic. And I can still hear them down there. By them I don’t mean my ex-wife, Carolyn, or her new husband, Roger, or my daughter, Melanie.
No. I mean the zombies. That’s right — zombies, undead, walkers, biters, ghouls, legends of the undead. Whatever the fuck you want to call them. They are down there.
It happened. The dead came back to life. I don’t how it happened or why. I just know that it did. And I don’t know where my daughter is. I need to find her and make sure that she’s safe.
What do you think? Does it grab you?
I thought this could be a project for the summer, for my daughter and I — we could work on our stories together.