Spores

I watched them attack every house where there seemed to be humans inside. I would have turned away from the window, but I was frozen in place, watching out for any that might come for my door. The horde swept over my city like a tsunami of living corpses. In just a couple of days, everything from Dover to Wimbledon was completely shut down. Phone lines were still operating but nobody dared checking up on their loved ones. Even if they did call, phones would have been turned off by anyone with half a brain. Or by anyone who still had their brain. I thought the general consensus would be that the closer down south they were, the less hope we’d have that they survived. There was no warning for them. No living in horror. Maybe they were the lucky ones.

Even though they weren’t human anymore, I hesitate to call them what people would generally call them because these things were intelligent. And I don’t mean, livestock-intelligent. I mean they retained the intelligence they had when they were human. So maybe they still were human? Now they just had the insatiable appetite for human flesh… Humans eating humans. The irony would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so sickening. I witnessed the same type of thing twenty years ago when I watched videos of other living creatures in slaughter houses. It was something I never wanted to see or contribute to ever again. But here I was at the end of human civilisation.

I stretched the food in my fridge to last about eight days. But there was only so much I could do now that I was using the fridge, amongst other things, to block off my door. Heavy or light, I used everything in the barricade. The couch, my vases, mirrors… Realising there was no British army coming to deal with this like in the movies any time soon, I resorted to growing mushrooms at home. It was something I dabbled in before, never with any success, but now it was time to take it seriously. Luckily, my diet hadn’t taken too much of a hit, but I was starting to think that I might have to eat meat again if I couldn’t find any other food nearby. I retched at the thought.

That retch. I thought about it for a couple hours. It didn’t sound right. At least two weeks had passed since I’d spoken to another person. And I don’t think I’d spoken to myself in that time. Had I forgotten how to speak? “No, I’m fine.” But my voice was hoarse. I touched at my neck and felt the skin almost as rough as leather. It could have just been my imagination. That’s what I should have left it as. But of course I had to see what was wrong. What if a bite wasn’t the only way to spread that craziness? Those things were crowding the roads outside and I breathed the same air as them.

I screamed when I saw myself in the mirror. Sunken eyes, greyed skin, lost weight. Just as I feared, spores. That’s how I became one. Well the lost weight is probably just because of how I holed myself up here. But I’m otherwise fine. They aren’t coming to my house because I’m already one of them. And I have no desire to eat human flesh. I haven’t desired any type of meat for a long time. A long long time. Unlike the “intelligent” but inhibition-lacking monsters, I can control myself. And to be honest, the eyes and skin can be fixed with a little bit of makeup. Those things are eating their own lips for a bit of extra meat. When the army came blazing, I’ll pass as human.

It’s Tuesday tomorrow. I guess I’ll go to the store and learn how to do make-up.