death everywhere.
It hurts to feel these things but yet it’s almost more than I can do to stop myself from plucking those threads. A part of me wants to release the horde upon the world. Pluck a thread in California, do one in New York, then maybe go back to the south and do it again… The urge is overwhelming sometimes.
I don’t want to be the end of the world. But sometimes, in my dreams, when my friends come to me and sit before the fire, I see the world burn.
And I wake up holding all those threads in my hand.
Epilogue
In the beginning was the darkness and only the darkness. Shapes frolicked and played and fought with each other. They would fight tooth and claw and nail until they were all ripped to shreds. Then there would be peace for a time until the shadows reformed into new and exciting shapes and destroyed each other all over again. It was fun and engaging and what did it really matter anyway? They were immortal and couldn’t die. They’d existed ever since the Nothing and would always exist as there would and could never be anything but the Nothing.
How could they see each other if there was nothing in the darkness but, uh, darkness? Even darkness has shape. Even shadows can be seen from the corner of the eye. Powerful shades grew form from the Nothing until they were able to control the lesser darkness and sometimes they would eat and eat and eat until nothing was left in the Nothing but huge tidal waves of darkness.
Then they would shit out new shapes and new shades and the process would begin anew.
This went on for… well, it’s hard to say. For the Nothing held no size or form or time in the void of itself. It had always been and always would be. You couldn’t say that it would exist until the end of time because that phrase had no meaning. There was no time that could end.
Until Something came from outside the Nothing. Which is a sentence that doesn’t even make sense. How can something come from outside something that has no sides? How can there be anything but the great Nothing, the great Void? The shapes and shades in the Nothing had no idea. It was like living your whole life in a two-dimensional world where the only directions that existed were left and right, backward and forward and then someone tapping you on the head and you have a big oh shit moment and realize that you’ve been missing out on this whole up and down thing.
Something came from Outside and ripped the top off of the Nothing and Light blazed in. Light in all its glory that showed the depravity and humiliations and pure, stinking Evil that existed in the Nothing. All the opposites came to bear. Good to their Evil. Life to their Death. Genius to their Stupidity. Knowledge was gained that showed the shades what they were and how they existed and how much better everything else was that existed outside the Nothing.
So they wanted in. Or out. It’s hard to describe directions in the Nothing. It’s not hard to imagine what they wanted.
The Something had its own, big, “oh shit” moment and quickly put the top back on the Nothing, but it was too late. The shades made it their mission to get out of the Nothing and since they had all the non-time that existed in their non-world, they had all the time of existence. Eventually some of them got free. They called home to their buddies and told them what existed Outside the Nothing. The Light hurt their eyes and made what passed for brains in their heads scream in agony, but they persevered and eventually others of their kind were freed.
This was a whole new world to play in. A world where Light existed, where time existed, where non-shades existed who could live and die and bleed. Whole new realms of fun opened up and when you shat out those mewling, bloody things they didn’t come back to life: they just ended. Most of the time.
So the shades played. Some whimpered and died when they were exposed to the Light but the Nothing always had more darkness to fuel them. Others grew strong on this new world and thrived and were worshipped as gods and grew fat on their power. They discovered new forms and shapes and forgot where they’d come from.
Then one went to a garden and convinced some of the pink things to do nasty things and eat from trees and fornicate and generally be as bad as the shades in the Nothing.
And the Something that had brought the Light went, “Oh, shit,” again and threw up its hands and ran away to find somewhere else to play.
JASON H. JONES graduated from Purdue University with a degree in Computer Information Systems. His first love was writing and he’s toiled away for years at his art. During the day he’s a mild-mannered IT Manager and at night he puts on the cape and cowl and hunches over the keyboard to write.
He is the author of The Chronicles of Billy Mann (SLASH and The Hunger), an engaging series about a sociopathic serial killer. Trailer Park Zombies marks his third foray into novel writing and Jason feels that this is his best effort to date. To keep track of Jason or find out more information you can visit his website at: www.jason-jones.net
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagination or were used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or locals
or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Trailer Park Zombies
All rights reserved © 2009 by Jason H. Jones
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form, without the prior written permission of the author
For information, address:
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ISBN:
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
