Locating My Inner Zombie

My friend J. Whitworth Hazzard is running a snazzy 250 word flash fiction contest. It is even sponsored by Big Fish Games. The grand prize is a choice of 3 of their zombie games. You might recall my post touting the virtues of Plants vs. Zombies.

The Game Over Screen for Plants Vs. Zombies

 I am a wild fan of flash fiction contests, zombie games, and also my friend J. Whitworth Hazzard (@zombiemechanics on Twitter).

I am well-known for my love of fairy tales. I have never written a zombie-inflected tale before, but I hope you enjoy this one.

Embry nestled further into her concave of damp earth, rotting leaves crusting off the surface like sad strips of old wallpaper.
First they’d eaten her mother, then her brother. They ate her neighbor, Mr. Sanders, and the boy who brought the newspaper. She didn’t mind that last so much – he’d kicked her shin once.
She’d run for three nights now, but could run no further. So she dug, through black earth oozing with worms and chill decay. She tried to keep her tunnel entrance tiny, packing the dirt in around her, bricking herself up into the darkest place.
“They know we’re in here now, Gus. “
A mahogany curl feathered over her cheek, a slash of red in the dimness. She pillowed her head against a knobby root.
Gus’ nose burrowed into her hand, his tongue giving sandpaper comfort but no warmth.

“I’m glad I’ve got you,” Embry said to the deer, charcoal eyes slitting to tiny half-crescents as they drooped.

Gus started following her on the second day, a silent shadow to her steps. The woods were empty; the birds and squirrels were the first to go.
As it darkened, the embers of her hair muted to faintly glowing ash.
Footsteps shuffled closer, thumping over her pitifully thin layer of dirt. In the world above, they were coming. She was too tired to care.

“Stay with me till the end, Gus?”

Everyone needs an imaginary friend at the end of the world.
Wordcount: 249

Dratted Downton Abbey

This is dire.

I needed another costume drama addiction like I needed a Tim Tebow bobblehead…which is to say, I didn’t.

In case you did, Merry Christmas

I certainly didn’t want an addiction to a show currently airing. I have the peculiar habit of refusing to watch a show while it airs. I purchase it on DVD and then I can glut myself all at once without having to wait that pesky week in-between, gnashing my teeth. This works well except when it doesn’t and someone spoils a plotline at the water cooler.

And then came this Christmas…

My mother, the source of all delightful period temptations, gifted me with Season 1 of Downton Abbey. This is the one show I have been avoiding precisely because I knew it would be like catnip for costume lovers.

I did not open it for several weeks. And then Season 2, episode 1 was due to air. I told my mother I wasn’t going to watch it, that I needed to watch Season 1 first and then I could buy Season 2, as per my usual plan. She parried this lame and useless objection and sternly told me to sit down and watch Season 2, episode 1.

“But…but, it’s all backwards and besides then I’ll know what happens and it will spoil season 1,” said I, feebly.

With inexorable Mother Logic, she brushed that protest aside and told me to watch it. So I did. And now I’m hooked. I watched Season 2, Episode 1 (all TWO HOURS) twice. And then I watched it again when it re-aired before Episode 2. For those counting, that is SIX HOURS of Episode 1. Dratted Mother. Dratted Downton Abbey.

First, I’ve always been a huge Edwardian era fan. One of my very favorite movies of all time is “A Room With a View.”

When I was younger, I wanted to grow up to be like Lucy Honeychurch. That daydream likely consisted of wandering around Italian meadows in white muslin gowns, reading letters and pining. After watching Downton Abbey, I took the official personality quiz to find out which character I was like. Apparently, I am now like Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery), the witty and nefarious heartbreaking one. It seems to be a short leap from Lucy to Mary, or eleven years.

At least she has exquisite taste

There have been other blog posts which have much more eloquently and succinctly dealt with the virtues of Downton. Ah, the acting! the costumes! the setting! the storylines! the dialogue!

Lady Mary actually had me at this droll exchange from Season 2, Episode 1:

Matthew: Edith seems jolly tonight.
Mary: She’s found her metier: farm labouring.

Metier? Who uses that word? Other than me, that is. I can hear the distant bells of addiction tolling – DOOOOM!

My favorite relationship in the show is actually not Lady Mary and Matthew, nor is it the popular charm of Anna and Mr. Bates. No, my favorite relationship in the series is Lord and Lady Grantham.

The hats!

Backstory explains that Lord Grantham married Cora, an American, for her money, but their relationship has grown into one of such nuanced tenderness and relative equability for the time…how could you not love them? The chemistry between Hugh Bonneville and Elizabeth McGovern reminds me of my own parents…too bad we didn’t grow up in Highclere Castle. Sigh.

So, to sum up, all my substantial to do list has been shelved and you will find me curled up in my blanket, probably eating Cool Ranch Doritos and watching, oh yes, watching Downton Abbey.

And then I will likely pull out my copy of “A Room With a View”, which also features the indomitable Dame Maggie Smith.

The Divine Miss M

Coincidence? I THINK NOT. If anyone finds a Maggie Smith bobblehead, that is what I want next Christmas. Also, Season 2. Thanks, Mum.