This SHORT story came to mind after waking up from an especially horrible zombie nightmare. It's not actually based on the nightmare though…That might be saved for another day, and another story.

UPDATE: I wrote a story about the nightmare I had. It's called "Kill Me Now, Dear Bullet". Some scenes are similar to this one. It was the nightmare that after all, inspired this story.

The main character is a 13 year old girl. I'm telling you this because it doesn't mention it at all in the story.

Not Quite Right with a Broken Mind

By PHfan21

POW! A sharp report came from upstairs, my mother's room to be exact. I got up from the sofa with a heavy sigh, looking longingly back at my book. I knew what waited for me upstairs. But whatever…I guess.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the front door slamming shut. I waited in bed a few moments longer, reveling in the warmth of my bed, and the chill in the air. I love being wrapped up, nice and warm, while everything else around me is cold. I didn't bother getting changed, it was Sunday, and so I had no need to be getting ready until I felt like it. I usually sleep with some socks on, but last night I forgot, and now I can feel our soft carpet under my feet and between my toes. It feels nice. I look down and wiggle my toes. I giggle at the sight. My tootsies are dancing to a tune only heard by them. Finally I decide to get a move on and see what the commotion is about. There are 16 steps on our stairs in all. With each one my parent's voices get a little louder and clearer.

"-the fuck should I know?" my father said irritatingly, with a touch of worry.

My mom hesitated before answering, and then said meekly "…I don't know. I just thought I'd ask."

At that point I reached the bottom of the stairs. They both turned to look at me. They were surprised. I guess they didn't realize how loud they've been. I was about to complain that they woke me up, but the dark expressions on their faces stopped me.

"What's wrong?" I questioned instead.

"You fa-"my mom started but was interrupted.

"A crazy guy attacked me on my jog this morning. Dumb ass bit me too." Dad said that last part with anger. "I'm going to bandage it up. It's actually not that bad. It won't need stitches anyhow. Nothing to see here folks." He said with a smile.

Soon after he left to the bathroom my little brother showed up at the top of the stairs with the classic 'I'm too tired, and I want to go back to sleep' routine which consisted of yawning a huge yawn and rubbing his eyes, then blinking blearily, trying to get everything into focus. He's seven years old, but small for his age, so he looks more like a five year old. We rarely fight because somehow we can never find anything to argue about. We have a pretty cool relationship. I never got it when people at school talked about how annoying their little brother or sister was.

Like me, he asked what was wrong, but mom and I answered "nothing" in unison. We all sat down at our table waiting for dad to come out of the bathroom. After he came out he just glanced at us, then opened the door to the basement, and went down. Our basement is our Rec Room. It's got a big screen TV, pool table, coach, and about a bazillion board games.

"I'm coming too!" my little brother squeaked. Mom and I are still sitting at the table, keeping to our own thoughts. Now that I'm thinking, I can't help but remember I never got a good look at dads bite. He was covering it with a towel, and had his hand pressed firmly over that. I hope it's not that bad, like dad had said.

I got up to begin making breakfast since mom hadn't made it yet. I turned on the burner, then grabbed all the breakfast foods from our fridge. Bacon, eggs, and sausage. All meats. All I can say is, we're no vegetarians. We love our meat. I settled myself into the comforting routine of cooking, until the simple peace was disrupted 10 minutes later.