Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The gown was stitched with ash and time.

The generator? Wired from scrap, groaning with defiance.

Together, they powered a night Tess never thought she'd have again.

It started with silence.

No engines. No groans. No rain.

Just the stillness that comes after too much loss.

Milo found the generator buried behind an old clinic. Dusty. Half-gutted. But fixable.

He smiled the moment it sparked to life.

"We have juice," he whispered, like it was holy.

Tess didn't respond at first.

She was staring at the dress.

Weeks ago, she'd left the burned wedding gown behind.

Now, she found another.

Folded in a suitcase. Clean. Intact.

Maybe someone had meant to wear it.

Maybe someone never got the chance.

She unfolded it slowly.

It shimmered in the half-light—simple, silver-threaded, too soft for a world like this.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Milo asked.

She looked at the gown, then at the whirring generator.

And smiled.

They transformed the clinic into a ballroom.

Hung a cracked mirror on the wall.

Swept aside the old cots and IV racks.

Lit every candle they had.

He pulled a speaker from the salvage box.

Hooked it to the generator.

Found a playlist called "First Dance."

Tess disappeared into the back room.

When she returned, Milo's breath caught.

The gown flowed around her like moonlight.

Her hair pulled back with a makeshift pin.

A smudge of red on her lips from crushed berries.

She didn't look like a bride.

She looked like a survivor who chose beauty anyway.

"Don't say it," she warned.

"Say what?"

"That I clean up nice."

"I wasn't going to," he grinned. "But… yeah. You look like a reason to stay human."

They danced.

Badly. Softly. Without rhythm.

But it didn't matter.

For five songs, they weren't running.

They weren't hiding.

They were just alive.

Between songs, she whispered, "You know I almost got married once."

"Yeah?"

"Before the fall. We had a venue. A guest list. Even a cake tasting."

"What happened?"

"The world ended."

He winced.

She shrugged. "Honestly, he wasn't worth surviving with."

"And I am?"

She looked up at him. Eyes burning soft.

"You glow in the dark. That's got to count for something."

The generator sputtered.

The lights dimmed.

But the moment lingered.

Later, Tess hung the gown on a nail, next to a broken chart of vital signs.

"Think someone will find it?" Milo asked.

"Maybe."

"What do you want them to think?"

She paused.

Then: "That even in the end, we remembered how to dance."

Because in a world powered by pain—

sometimes you need to plug into joy.

Even if the lights only last one night.