Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The wind howled through the jagged canyon as Damien Rook and Lena ventured deeper into the Whispering Tomb, a cavern said to hold ancient secrets. The walls, carved with eerie symbols, seemed to pulse with life, casting faint shadows as their torchlight flickered. Every step echoed in the narrow passage, and Damien could feel the weight of unseen eyes watching them.

"This place is bad news," Lena muttered, her grip tightening on her knife.

Damien nodded. "I know. But the artifact is here. The one that can turn the tide against the Zombie King."

For weeks, they had followed cryptic clues, piecing together the location of an ancient relic—the Heart of the Damned, said to grant its wielder immense power. Power that Damien needed to end the Zombie King's reign of terror. But as they ventured further, the air grew colder, and the faint whispers began, barely audible but chilling to the bone.

"Damien…" The voice was soft, almost gentle, but unmistakably familiar.

Damien froze. "Did you hear that?"

Lena stopped, her eyes narrowing. "What?"

The voice came again, louder this time. "Damien… why did you leave me?"

His blood ran cold. It was a voice from his past—his wife's. She had died in the early days of the apocalypse, torn away by the same monsters that now plagued the world. But here, in this cursed place, her voice echoed through the darkness.

"Damien, don't listen to it," Lena warned, stepping closer. "It's the Tomb—it's playing tricks on your mind."

He shook his head, struggling to push the memories away. But the voice continued, luring him deeper. "You could have saved me… why didn't you save me?"

His heart pounded, and for a brief moment, the weight of his past mistakes crashed down on him. But Damien was no stranger to guilt, and he knew this was just another trap. He steadied himself, his hand resting on the cold metal of his revolver. "It's not real," he muttered. "None of it is real."

Suddenly, the walls of the tomb shifted, and a cold wind surged through the cavern, extinguishing their torch. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, and the shadows moved unnaturally, forming figures in the dark.

"Get ready," Damien said, his voice low and steady.

Lena raised her blade. "Here they come."

Out of the darkness, shadowy creatures lunged toward them—wraiths, their forms barely solid, their eyes glowing with a sinister light. Damien fired, the flash of his revolver lighting up the cavern, but the bullets passed through the wraiths as if they were smoke.

"These aren't normal," Lena said, slashing at the nearest wraith, her blade doing little to slow it down.

"We need to get to the heart of the tomb," Damien said, reloading as he backpedaled. "It's the only way to stop them." Discover more stories at empire

They fought their way through the relentless onslaught, their path lit only by the flashes of gunfire and steel. The whispers became deafening, but Damien's resolve was stronger. He wasn't going to lose anyone else—not to these creatures, not to the past.

At the far end of the tomb, a faint glow beckoned. The Heart of the Damned was close. They just had to survive long enough to claim it.