A Zombie Love Story
Joely Sue Burkhart
Joely Sue Burkhart
Copyright © 2011 Joely Sue Burkhart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form without the express, written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
A Zombie Love Story
Table of Contents
Excerpt of The Zombie Billionaire’s Virgin Witch
Other Books by Joely Sue Burkhart
For my Beloved Sister
I dreamed of the broken doll again.
Standing on a bridge curtained with willows and blooming vines, I saw her in the crystal water flowing beneath the stone arch. At first, she looked perfect: lovely porcelain face, large sparkling eyes, and flowing silken ribbons of gold framing her angelic features. Beautiful as she rose from the gurgling stream, she floated up to the bridge like dandelion fluff. She smiled with that Cupid’s bow mouth, but when she walked toward me, her gait was stiff and jerky like a mindless robot.
Dread rolled through me, a drowning darkness of cold waters. I couldn’t breathe. My head pounded and my heart struggled to beat. Ice encased my hands and feet, inching up my arms and legs. I wanted to run before she came any closer, but I was frozen immobile. Dead leaves rained down. Brittle flowers crumpled to dust. Ice covered me. My face was stiff and cold, my eyes wide open and staring. Just like that horrible, perfect doll marching toward me with grim joviality.
There was something horrible about her face, something so terrifying that I couldn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want to look. Peaches and cream complexion, once smooth and symmetrical, now drooped. The eye on the right sat lower on her face, her mouth tugging down into a grimace. A dark slash cut across her forehead, another down her cheek. She stumbled forward, clutching a heavy gold watch, links of chain woven between her wooden fingers.
I stared, frozen like a dumb animal, as that face broke open. Porcelain cracked away to reveal…
Screaming, I jerked awake. I clawed at the blankets, flailing toward the edge of our kingsized bed. My husband reached for me, mumbling, “What’s wrong?”
Relieved, I sank back onto the pillows and rolled into his embrace. Even woken from sleep, his voice echoed with command. He was a man used to leadership, wealthy enough to purchase the best doctors and provide exclusive, expensive care for me. He loved me. I remembered that much.
A wave of nausea flooded my stomach, burning up my throat. I really didn’t want to see any more doctors. Perhaps one…the one who…
My head hurt. Yes, he’d taken care of my head. After the accident. The bridge. Pain exploded. Why couldn’t I remember his face? His name? He saved me. Images fluttered through my mind like loose papers, blowing leaves, gone in an instant. Pillowing my face on Robert’s chest, I tried to calm my thoughts. “I was dreaming. Oh, it was horrible. That doll, her broken face…”
Shuddering, I couldn’t tell him the worst of the nightmare. She was me. I was her. What does that mean?
“That same old nightmare again? Go back to sleep, dear.” His dismissive attitude stung. Rather, it would have hurt if I could feel anything. I was suddenly aware that I was fully awake, yet I was still numb to my surroundings. His bare chest was beneath my cheek, but I felt no heat from him. I smelled nothing from his skin. Hadn’t he always smelled of cologne, even at night? His chest hairs should tickle, yet I felt nothing but the rise and fall of his chest. Panic gnawed in the pit of my stomach, twisting me into knots. He made a sound of pain and took my hand in his, lifting my fingers away from his skin...
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