Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The mask's scream shattered into silence, a silence too vast, too suffocating. For an instant, the world held its breath. Then the fractures in the sky collapsed inward, pulling light, ash, and voice into a single core.

Where the mask had hung, there now gaped a mouth. Not shaped by bone or cloud, but raw absence—a maw of nothingness that stretched wider than the horizon. It swallowed the air, the light, even the echoes of the widow's vow.

The farmer dropped his drum, clutching his chest as his heartbeat faltered. "It's not singing anymore," he gasped. "It's… devouring the sound itself."

Elara pressed her son close, her arms trembling under the pull of the void. His glow flickered but held steady, casting halos that fought the sucking dark. "Don't look at it," she whispered, though her own eyes couldn't turn away. "It's the end of endings. The hunger behind the face."

Kael forced himself upright, scars flaring molten white. The fissures bled fire beneath him, as though his body was no longer separate from the broken earth. His voice was hoarse but unyielding: "So this is it. No mask. No lies. Just the void that feeds."

The maw shuddered, its edges lined with countless stolen hands, reaching, clawing, dragging themselves from its throat. Each hand was a memory, each claw a name lost to the storm. They pulled outward, trying to drag the living in.

The scarred woman staggered forward, her ruined arm sparking wildly. She drove it into the ground, anchoring herself as the void's pull tore at her flesh. Her grin was skeletal, but her voice was iron. "If it wants us, it'll choke on fire." She screamed, and the sparks erupted, streaks of burning ash that lanced into the maw.

The fire vanished the instant it touched the void.

Elara's son raised his hand, his glow trembling. "It doesn't eat everything," he whispered. "It can't take what refuses to belong to it. That's why the freed ones broke away."

Kael turned toward him, blood and fire streaking down his face. "Then show us, boy. Show us what can't be swallowed."

The child's light expanded, not in brilliance but in weight, in presence—warmth spreading through the survivors like a heartbeat that no void could erase. Elara felt it steady her bones, the scarred woman felt it anchor her sparks, and even the farmer felt his drum echo again, faint but alive.

Kael roared and thrust his arms skyward, feeding his molten scars into the fissures. The earth answered with a surge of light, pillars that coiled upward to brace the collapsing heavens.

The void convulsed, the stolen hands shrieking as they were torn between clinging and letting go.

For the first time, the maw recoiled.

Elara kissed her son's head, tears cutting streaks through the ash. "One more breath," she whispered. "One more stand."

The battlefield blazed with fire, vow, and glow, holding against the abyss.

And above them, the last maw trembled—not invincible, but cornered.