I was right!

I was right. Hot motherfucking, ass explosion, damn, I was right about it all.

No one believed me, no one took me seriously. Why? When I knew without a doubt that this was going to happen.

I screamed it to my neighbors, my family, the mayor, everyone across the state, plastered across the internet. The signal was going to get all of them.

And still no one believed me. They called me a Karen, or a bitch. But I knew it was all bullshit from the beginning! I tried to convince my husband and my kids. My parents didn’t even want to take me seriously. I knew I was right. I don’t blame them for not listening, but I was right.

I was right. I said this would happen exactly as it was happening. I was right to throw the computer out the window! I was right to kick the TV, and I was double right to toss my phone in the sink. While the others were too slow, I was fast enough. And, most importantly, I was right.

The closet door swung off its hinges, tackled down the hall, smacking a couple of her expensive picture frames.

My husband had been listening to the radio. He loved his podcasts and scary stories. A horror buff with a fondness for the gnarly beasts. The Blob and The Thing were two of his favorites. Blood and kills in movies gave him a smile, and he constantly had a channel running with a series known for counting horror movie deaths.

An amalgamation of icons, twisted and smeared together, tried to crush me tucked in the back of the closet. Blood slapped my back as I rolled under a swipe and raged down the hall.

Ran straight into my son. The sports guy. Lover of football and breaker of hearts. While he wasn’t an absolute genius, he kept good grades despite the taxing nature of being the quarterback. Pressure got to him.

Over all that, he had a fascination with insects. If I knew it would one day cause him to turn into a giant mutant spider because of his love for the animal channel, maybe I would have set the TV with today’s game.

I avoided my son and slammed a knee into the door to the basement.

I tumbled into a safe house, shut the door, ignored the meaty slaps against the hatch, and scrambled through the makeshift tunnel. It was a crude, unfinished tunnel, with creaky lights and dim bulbs, but it was my ticket to get to the next–

The lights went out.

I couldn’t see shit. Pitch fucking black. And I didn’t have time to memorize the map.

I stumbled into the darkness and kept my hands firm against the walls. Breathe and move. Breathe and move. Breathe and–

I heard a noise.
Behind.
I turned around.
Nothing. I shifted back around, heard it get closer behind.

I turned around again. Shit, what was my daughter watching? What did a teenage girl watch? Oh god, oh fuck! What does my teenage daughter watch?

No, she’s a reader. Fuck, audio books are a thing.

She loved–
She loved–

The swinging, overhead lights flickered to life, and gave me the face of–

Right, right, I was so preoccupied with maintenance, I’d completely forgotten that she’d recently gotten into serial killers.

I should’ve listened to her.

I hate always being right.


Next prompt: Zombie outbreak and they can drive cars.

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