Tuesday, October 20, 2009


By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 258

He made a sharp right turn on the jungle path, and there in front of him, standing on the road bedecked in jewellery was an absolutely elegant elephant. Doctor Franklin raised the camera hanging around his neck and focused on the magnificent creature. He took a photo.

“Look out!” cried one of the native trackers beside Franklin.

The flash from the camera startled the elephant and it charged towards the small expedition party of four, knocking over trees and bushes in a flurry of thick, muscular legs.

“Out of the way, Doctor,” the other tracker yelled, pushing the elderly philanthropist out of the path of the charging beast.

Blood splattered the Doctor as the tracker became a pile of flesh and bones beneath the elephant’s huge feet. It was then that Franklin noticed the elephant’s eyes were white and a two foot hole in the creature’s side exposed its rotting organs and flesh.

“Kimbundu!” the other tracker yelled, causing the other native to flee into the forest leaving the Doctor by himself.

Franklin hide behind a tree, but the elephant had already lost interest in him over the pile of fresh flesh it began devouring.

“What is Kimbundu?” the Doctor mumbled to himself, digging out his notebook and began flicking madly through the pages of handwritten notes.

“Uuuggh!” a groan came from behind Franklin.

He turned to face the noise, realising too late that Kimbundu meant zombie.


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