After a prolonged pursuit in the silent streets of your small town, you've run out of places to run. Under the light of the full moon casting its hazy glow through the clouds you see her: your undead stalker, lurching towards you as relentlessly as time itself. How exactly you wound up here is irrelevant; your pursuer has you cornered in this alleyway, and lurches forward with a growl and renewed vigor. You prepare to meet your maker as her hands grab you by the arms and force you to the ground, but when you open your eyes you sense a different potential in the gaze that meets you.
Is this zombie a suitor, or simply curious about her midnight snack? Your move, champ.
Is this zombie a suitor, or simply curious about her midnight snack? Your move, champ.