Secret-Ghost

Sirens wailed in the background. Blood crept down her forehead. Her vision was blurry. She barely registered the crumbled car in front of her, the dark stain on the airbag. She just wanted to sleep. Her eyelids weighed so much... She felt like her chest caved in, her head was pounding. It all went dark. She woke up gasping for air, eyes wide, and sweat trickling down her forehead. She took slow, deep breaths and tried closing her eyes, but they only shot open when the image of her nightmare returned. Ever since the accident, she's been having all these nightmares. She didn't understand any of them. She barely remembered that day anyway

I have nothing. I have no personality, no life, no name. No identifying features. I am nothing. I must have had something before, but once the change happens and the last thing to think about is the undeniable craving for flesh, well, nothing becomes a lifestyle. Its habit now to roam the streets, see brothers and sisters, and fight them for the nearest human. But the people are much ruder when I became this way. They never ask for a name or even say a pleasant hello, no these strange creatures just run around screaming about gathering the children and elderly and some other nonsense about 'the dead have come alive.' Oh, but their screa