Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

They found it hanging in the middle of the road.

A wedding dress—tattered, scorched at the hem, fluttering in the breeze like a ghost's skin. The wind carried the faint scent of smoke and lilacs, oddly sweet in a world where decay was the default.

Tess stopped walking.

"I know that dress," she whispered.

Lara turned to her, cautious. "From where?"

"My mother wore it. In pictures. It was in our attic. Before… before everything."

Ryder looked at the empty buildings around them. "We're near Sector 3. That where you lived?"

Tess nodded, her voice cracking. "We're home."

They followed her to what was left of the neighborhood—once pastel-colored houses now collapsed into gray skeletons. Fire had swept through it months ago. The trees were blackened bones. Mailboxes hung crooked. A child's plastic tricycle melted into the sidewalk like a forgotten dream.

Tess walked to the ruins of a house with a blue door barely clinging to its frame.

"This was it."

She stepped inside. The others followed slowly, respecting the stillness. The ceiling had caved in, but remnants of life remained—a ceramic dish in a corner, half a photo frame, a charm bracelet melted into tile.

In the far room, beside a collapsed wardrobe, they found the rest of the dress.

Burned. But intact.

And beneath it… bones.

Small. Curled. Clutching a charred teddy bear.

Tess collapsed to her knees.

"My sister," she whispered. "Mina. I told her to stay here. I told her I'd be back."

No one spoke. There was nothing to say.

Ryder knelt beside her. "She waited for you. She died believing you were coming home."

Tess touched the dress, fingers brushing the scorched lace. "She must've found the attic. She wore it. Like Mama. Maybe she thought wearing it would bring us back."

The silence broke.

A screech outside.

Then another.

The dead had found them.

"Time to go," Lara said, pulling Tess gently away. "We can't stay."

But Tess stood. Something inside her had changed.

She took the burned dress and draped it over her like armor. It was too big, torn down the middle, but she tied it at the waist and picked up a rusted fireplace poker.

"I'm not running," she said. "Not this time."

Milo stepped beside her, blade in hand.

Ryder smiled faintly. "Well then. Let's give the dead a wedding they'll never forget."

The fight was brutal—five walkers, fast and snarling. But they held the line. Blood sprayed over the white dress. Fire from a broken gas line turned the road into an orange storm.

And when it was over, Tess still stood.

Smoke rising behind her. Dress scorched at the hem.

She didn't cry.

She just whispered, "Goodbye, Mina."

Then walked away.

They never took the dress off her.

It became her banner. Her promise.

She wasn't just surviving anymore.

She was remembering.

And nothing—not fire, not teeth, not time—could burn that away.