The Vintage Wallpaper

I sit with my back against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. I know they can’t see me though the wall but it’s just part of how I hide from the Wasted. Stay small and hidden are how I’ve been able to survive these past months on my own as I move through now dead landscape.

Across from me, the muted tones of moss, mustard, cream, and brick pink weave together to illustrate the vintage floral wallpaper popular long ago. The walls are covered in it, some pieces peeling where the water had gotten in.

A relic of long-lost style, the image was nostalgic of a better time. Lost in my own memories, I didn’t hear the quiet shuffling from the other room, didn’t see the bloated body pass through the opening from the darkened living room.

As the Wasted shrieked, I froze on the hardwood beneath me—why had I assumed this place was empty in my haste. Stupidity equals death in this new world.

© 2019 Julianne Snow