NIGHT TALES 10
Commute
The train is full of zombies.
They are quiet.
They don’t eat brains too.
They are peaceful zombies.
They don’t eat anything.
They’re hollow, though.
They are containers of what they were.
Before they turned.
Their eyes unmoving,
Their fingers tapping,
Their ears plugged.
The train rocked violently.
It jostled everyone on the train.
The zombies didn’t pay any attention to it.
Their eyes stayed glued on their screens.
It was fascinating.
I draw them.
I have a pen and a notepad with me always.
Because I love drawing the zombies.
It doesn’t matter if my bag was heavy,
If the train is full,
And even if I can barely move.
I always draw them.
There’s this beautiful zombie,
She was wearing a black dress.
I drew her too.
But then, a zombie saw me drawing.
Boy, was he pissed.
He told me I was creepy.
He put his phone away,
Then he ripped his earphones off his rotten ears.
He took my notepad and my pen.
And he put it in his bag.
He shot me a dirty look,
Before plugging his earphones back on his ears,
And gluing his eyes back on his phone screen.
Now I had nothing to do on the train.
My notepad was gone.
So was my pen.
I rummaged in my bag,
Anything that I can use to draw with.
An old pencil,
An old receipt,
Anything.
But I found nothing.
I patted my pockets,
Then I felt it.
My phone.
I took it then.
And for the rest of the trip,
My eyes were glued to the screen.
