Upon arriving home that night from the carnival, I kept thinking back on what the gypsy had said to me.
“The eyes of the dead are upon you, hesitate you will not live to see the sunrise.”
I laughed and shook it off, trying to look calm and collected as my friends looked on. As we exited the tent, I couldn’t help but wonder, in a small corner of my mind if perhaps there was anything to what she said.
As I changed into my nightgown, I thought I heard something outside my window.
“Great, Linda. Now you’re hearing things.” I approached the window and looked outside, just to make sure it was nothing. You never know. As I suspected, there was nothing there. I shook my head and went about making sure the rest of the house was locked up and then went to bed. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour when I woke up to a loud noise. There was someone or something in my house. I looked toward my bedroom door and calculated the amount of time I may need to run out of my room, to the kitchen to grab a knife, and be ready to defend myself. Then without so much as a warning, I heard a voice inside my head, “GO!”
I bolted out of the door, and ran to my kitchen and without hesitation; I took my butcher knife from the magnetic plate on my wall and turned to find the face of my English professor. Without hesitation I plunged the knife into his shoulder and ran outside screaming as though an army of the dead were behind me. I fell to the ground and looked over my shoulder. There I saw him, shuffling after me, hands reaching out toward me, his mouth desperately trying to say something. With all of my courage, I stood and grabbed the ax I had next to the oak tree in my yard. I swung with all of my might, and felt the thump of his head hitting the ground. His headless body fell backward with another loud thump. I fainted and woke up to see the sunrise from my lawn. As I sat up, I noticed there was no body and no head. My ax was against my tree, and upon entering my house there was no evidence of anything having happened. I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing it had all been a dream. I jumped when I heard my alarm go off, twenty minutes until class. I half laughed, and started to open the bathroom door and heard a creaking sound coming from my closet. When I opened the door, I saw my English professor, standing holding his head, and clearly saying, “This will not get you out of re-writing your mid-term!”
I sighed. I never thought it would be this hard to kill my English professor after he turned into a zombie.