Friday Fiction: Carla’s Lunch

Well ‘zombie in a tutu’ was the winner of the Friday Fiction poll – and your wish is my command!

Carla’s Lunch

Carla had been hungry for as long as she could remember. Her long, lean legs stretched out in front of her and she sat, staring at them absently. While the other kids at school munched on chips and drank bottles of softdrink, Carla would nibble halfheartedly on an apple. They thought she wanted to. They thought she looked down on them. But oh how she envied their chocolates and burgers from the tuckshop, the smell of the greasy meat and melted cheese filling her nostrils with the wonderful savoury scent of fat, making her want it so badly that she had to walk away from them.

She dreamed every night of food, of grabbing great handfuls of their lunches and running away to stuff herself behind the tennis courts. But then she’d wake to her muesli and fresh juice and stare down at those thin legs, the flat tummy and slender, almost bony hips and know that it was worth it. She’d get to dance the lead again this year.

Carla shifted awkwardly, smoothing her tutu under her legs. She was starving. The hunger just got worse and worse. She didn’t just miss food – she craved it, her mouth filling with sour spit at the thought. Her hunger had become a burning hole in her shrunken stomach, her throat constricting with her need. When she couldn’t stand it any longer – when the gaping hole in her stomach threatened to devour her entirely, Carla rose slowly, carefully to her feet and made her way to the corner where she’d left it after her breakfast earlier that morning.

“Look at me now, Mrs Glodny!” Carla thought smugly, drawing out the anticipation of her lunch. The cold blue eyes of her dance teacher stared back at her, fixed forever in that disapproving glare. Carla knelt beside her meal reverentially, giving thanks in her own way for the gift she had been given. Drawing the scent deep into her lungs, she grabbed a handful of Mrs Glodny’s innards and started shoving the gobbets of flesh into her mouth ecstatically. She had been hungry for as long as she could remember but only now was she finally free to satisfy her hunger. Becoming a zombie was more fulfilling than she ever could have imagined.


2 Responses to “Friday Fiction: Carla’s Lunch”

  1. Ew.
    (correct response for a zombie story).

    I’ve read a good short story, I think by Poppy Z. Brite, that describes the moment when the main character reaslises that he’s a zombie (and then the hunger came, and he knew…) but do you think I can remember the title?? It was about a pretty dancing boy who was kidnapped by a serial killer who tried to lobotomise him by injecting formaldehyde into his brain… so when the boy wakes up with a splitting headache and can’t help lurching around, the failed/partial lobotomy seems a likely explanation. Until he gets hungry. (In this story I think the zombies just happened. If you died, you came back – no biting or fluid-based transmission of the disease was necessary).
    Sorry, having a quiet day at home, so writing lots of comments 🙂 Good luck with the blog!

    • Thanks for the comments Krissy, keep them coming! I’ve read a fair bit of Poppy Z. Brite’s work but not that one – will have to look for it!

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