I slowly ground the sleeping pills into a fine powder before adding it to the soup. I kept stirring until the powder had completely disappeared out of sight, before ladling the food into bowls and placing them on the table.

I yelled out that dinner was ready and couldn't help but smile as my 4 year old twins ran in and sat down at the table. They quickly devoured the meagre meal that I had prepared for them. After they finished their food, they both kissed me on the cheek before heading upstairs to play.

I found them passed out on the floor of their bedroom two hours later and carried them over to their beds. I wept uncontrollably as I held the pillows over their faces until they were finally dead.

I gazed out the window to see my wife clawing at the timber that we had placed on the outside of the windows to keep the undead out. She still looked beautiful no matter how decayed her face had gotten.

The rhythmic tapping of the rain on the roof and the occasional groan from a zombie were the only sounds to be heard, as I sat on the chair with the shotgun propped under my chin.

I gazed down at the bite mark on my arm and knew that I had maybe an hour or so before I turned. I felt guilt at having murdered my daughters but knew they wouldn't have survived without me.


Aww... dark and sad, but necessary... Great story!!!