Once Bitten, Twice Die

**Content warning! Contains language and gore.**


Once Bitten, Twice Die -- A flash fiction by J.L. Holloway -- READ FREE


“What the fuck?” I felt the words echo through me, rather than hearing them aloud. I focused on my translucent fingers, then gazed down at the rest of my body. My legs were only a cloud of mist wafting above the ground.

I heard a soft moan come from behind me and turned to see me, or my body, shambling towards the nearest door. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bright red blood spirted and oozed from my mutilated shoulder, coating my left arm, but I — it — didn’t seem to notice.

“A zombie, really?” my ghostly voice whispered.  “And I guess that would make me a ghost. Wonderful.” I huffed and a wisp of milky haze floated in the air.

Zombie-Me slammed into the door, making no attempt to raise my arms or reach for the knob. “Well, that’s great. I’ve already forgotten how to use a door.”

I glided across the room to my useless body. “Like this, genius,” I said reaching for the doorknob and my fist slid through the metal. “I guess I’m the genius, huh?” I asked my body as it started pounding its weight against the door.

“That’s not going to work, it’s solid wood. This isn’t like the movies,” but then again there weren’t movies about ghosts following their dead bodies around either.

After several minutes of monotonous thudding, the doorframe began to splinter, then break loose and creak open. Zombie-Me went for one more thud and the door swung wide under the weight. My body fell face first onto the floor.

“This is embarrassing,” I mumbled and flew through the wall to the other side. An unsettling sound filled the room. If I had any skin, it would be covered in goosebumps.

The dark figures that huddled in the shadows appeared human; humans lacking life, soul, or anything resembling humanity. They were eating something. Bits of flesh dangled from their jaws, dark blood streaked their faces, and entrails squished between their boney fingers.

Zombie-Me was pulling itself along the floor toward whatever the other zombies were eating. “No! Don’t you dare eat that!” I groaned as my pleads went unheard.

“YOOHOO! Anybody home?” a deep and scruffy voice sounded from down the hall.

I glided through the door and saw a man with a handgun leveled on the door.

I reflexively ducked back into the room just as the zombie hoard moaned and groaned their way to the door frame. I noticed Zombie-Me trailing behind the pack, now with blood and guts stuck to my face.

Zombies pried their way into the hall, each vying to be the first to claim a new meal. The gun fired and the zombies’ heads vanished in a spray of bone and brains.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. I turned back to see Zombie-Me shuffling closer, clearly oblivious to the signs of danger right in front of it. “Stop! You idiot, you’re going to get your head blown off!”

In my panic, I flew down the hall to the man, hoping to scare him off or possess him. But this was not a random, zombie killing, gun enthusiast. This was my —

I looked back, my old body next in line to bite the bullet. Desperate, I dived into Zombie-Me’s body, and it froze.

“Ben, wait!” I screamed. The words gurgled out of Zombie-Me’s mouth.

Ben lowered the gun, but only slightly. “Nat? Oh, my God.” Ben’s knuckles whitened around the pistol’s grip. “Those bastards got you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Natalie.” Tears filled his eyes. “I tried. I swear I tried. I’m sorry.”

His hand trembling, Ben raised the gun. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He pulled the trigger and I watched my now motionless body fall to the floor in a bloody heap.

I watched Ben turn the gun as tears painted twisted trails down his dirt caked face.

The gun fired again and we were reunited.


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Tipsy Scribbles: Continuous Line – Fruits

Tipsy Scribbles

Hey everybody! I’m still here, just busy with odd and end projects. I guess you can say my creativity has exploded everywhere. I have knitting projects, art lessons, art projects, writing projects, sewing projects, and even some spiritual enlightenment going on. My plate is a little full. And by full, it’s overflowing and I’m still trying to find room to squeeze in more things.

But when my mother asked for more continuous line drawings for her office, I jumped right on it. I love these drawings. They are really good practice for sketching and are very quick to do. I am debating on adding color to these. Maybe a splash of water color. Nothing too strong. I want to keep the simplicity of the continuous line.

I think my favorite thing about these drawings is the simplicity of it, as well as the discipline that goes into the process. It’s like writing in cursive, except you cannot lift your pen while trying to write a paragraph. It’s a great way to get the creative juices flowing, and I suggest it for all artists, of any age or experience level.

Three Apples Continuous Line Drawing -Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Three Apples
Sunny Pineapple Continuous Line Drawing - Tipsy Scribbles - A picture says a thousand words when wine loosens the tongue.
Sunny Pineapple

“With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

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Random Writing Prompts: August 2017

Random Writing Prompts

This week’s writing prompts are brought to you by Leslie. Share your stories and artwork with us!

Random Writing Prompts-Aug17-Her anger dissolved into calm. For the first time in her life, she tasted the sweetness of serenity.
Her anger dissolved into calm. For the first time in her life, she tasted the sweetness of serenity.
Random Writing Prompts- Aug17-Who knew such a small change could inspire a radiating confidence.
Who knew such a small change could inspire a radiating confidence.
Random Writing Prompts-Aug17-Witchcraft was something of myth and fairy tales but here it was, undeniably real.
Witchcraft was something of myth and fairy tales but here it was, undeniably real.


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World’s Greatest Chef

World's Greatest Chef - A Flash Fiction by J.L. Holloway -- READ FREE!
Photo by Hisu lee on Unsplash


“It’s the hottest night of her cooking career, folks. And we are on the edge of our seats!” the enthusiastic host shouts and the crowd cheers.

“You’re absolutely right, Tony. She needs to tame the flames or she is going to get burned. Let’s take a look at her competition.”

“Alright, Karen, it looks like Michael is confident in the kitchen. He hasn’t wasted any time with his preparations.”

“And Katherine seems to be going for speed to beat the heat of her competitors. I can’t even tell what she’s doing!” Karen, the bubbly blonde host, laughs in disbelief.

This is it, this is your last chance to give the judges the best cake they have ever eaten, the chef tells herself.

The oven timer dings and all three chefs look up.

“That must be our champion’s cakes! They are always perfect in every way, Karen.” Tony leaned forward to get a better look as the chef took the pan out.

Oh no! No no no! They’re not done!

“It looks like you spoke too soon, Tony. Our chef’s cakes are still gooey in the center. She’s going to put them back in — wait — Katherine just stole the oven! Can you believe it?!”

“Oh my gosh, folks. I don’t know if I can handle this!” Tony cried and brought his hands to his face and peeked through his fingers.

“ONE MINUTE REMAINING,” a deep voice over the speaker announced to the chefs and the crowd gasped.

“Our champion is going to need a miracle if she wants to pull this off,” said Karen.

Okay, the middle isn’t done. What to do? What to do? the chef thought as she paced the kitchen. I got it!

“Don’t look now, Tony, but I think our chef has a plan. It looks as if she’s… scooping out the gooey cake batter!” Karen said, shocked.

Tony looked with a grin, “It’s like she’s cutting the crusts off and… keeping them?”


Fruit, fruit, I need fruit. And jam. Where’s the jam?

“Would you look at that, I think she is making a fruit filled cake!”

“Honestly, Karen, I don’t care what it is, I want to eat it!” Tony laughed.

The audience began counting down from ten, “NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN,”

Come on, come on! the chef stacked, stirred and poured as sweat beaded on her brow.


The buzzer sounded as the clock clicked to zero. The three chefs stood back to look at their finished products.

“Who will be our winner?” Karen turned to Tony. “Weeks of challenges have led us to this moment. The judges will now decide who will be the next World’s Greatest Chef!”

A woman in a sparkly red dress took plates of each dessert to the judges’ table. One judge was the guy that drove around and ate at different restaurants for a living. The lady was a singer. The last judge was just some old British guy that was really mean and didn’t like anything.

“The judges are sampling the desserts and writing in their answers. Who will be the World’s Greatest Chef?” Karen asked into the camera as Tony bit his nails.

The lady in the sparkly red dress took the judges answers to the hosts, Tony and Karen. “The votes are in people!” Tony screamed as he took the envelopes. “And the winner of this year’s title World’s Greatest Chef goes to–”

“Bonnie, it’s time to come in.”

“But Mom, they were going to say who won on The World’s Greatest Chef show,” Bonnie explained, sitting in the grass surrounded by mud pies.

“What if the world’s greatest chef washed up and helped me with dinner?”

“Really?” Bonnie jumped up and ran to the house.

“Whoa, miss chef, you need to clean up first.” Bonnie’s mother walked over to the water hose and let Bonnie spray the mud off of her toys, hands and feet.

“I’m going to be the greatest chef in the world!” Bonnie shouted and her mother picked her up and carried her inside.

“You most certainly are.”


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