Hello people that are reading this! This is my first fanfic of The Simpsons that I have completed (more Simpsons stories will come soon). I'll put a little warning here for those who are squeamish... uh... spoiler alert?
It was a sunny Saturday morning in Springfield. Marge Simpson was making breakfast for her beloved family that included pancakes, eggs, and bacon. After she was finished, she set everything down neatly and called for her family to come down. But, no one ever came down. The house was quiet. The only thing being heard was the silence of an empty house. Marge murmured quietly to herself and gently tapped her fingers against the table. She was hoping they weren't still mad at her after she lashed out at them the other day. She was just a little overwhelmed with them and got a little mad.. just a little. All was forgiven not long after. Why are they ignoring her now? Marge decided to call one more time and waited.. and waited.. no one came... They must still be asleep, Marge thought her herself. So she decided that she herself will get ready and have her family take their time on getting up. She got up from the table and went upstairs to her bedroom that she shared with her husband, Homer. She walked past the bed and went to the bathroom that was connected to the room and stared at herself in the mirror. Marge readjusted her hair just a bit and then went back to staring into the mirror. Her eyes piercing her own soul. Something caught Marge's eye and she slowly looked to her right, facing the tub. There, laying in the tub, was the lifeless body of her husband.
Homer's body was slouched, laying against the wall. His eyes were half-lidded and soulless. His mouth slightly open. There as a blood splatter on the wall which trailed down to behind Homer's head. Then, there was a sharp knife lodged into his throat, blood dripping down from the wound and onto his shirt, coating it with red. Marge just looked at her husband's corpse. No shock, no scream, no horror. She just looked at his body in sadness, no tears and no sobbing, just a sad look in her eyes. Marge sadly stared at the body for a while until she heard a ding from downstairs that made her jerk her head the other way, facing the doorway to the bedroom. Oh, she forgot, she also had planned on making toast as well. Marge left the bathroom and went back downstairs.
She walked back to the kitchen where she retrieved the toast from the toaster. It was burned. Marge wasn't completely upset as she gave her family burnt toast before and they never complained about it. Marge opened the cupboard where all the silverware was held. Her hand hovered over one of the many butter knives for a moment before picking it up and setting it on the counter. She closed the cupboard and went to the refrigerator to grab butter for the toast. She decided to open the freezer door first as she sometimes put the butter in there. Marge opened it and just stared into the freezer. Inside the freezer was a transparent trash bag that was forcefully shoved into the small space. The contents of the bag were clearly visible. The three smaller bodies of Marge's own children were in there. They were all connected by a rope that was wrapped tightly against their necks, their lifeless heads having a bluish hue. All of their bodies and limbs were bent freakishly as they were shoved into the freezer's tight space and, unlike Homer's corpse, their eyes were wide and bulged out and their mouths gaping. Marge stared into her children's corpse's soulless bulging eyes and sadness, again with no shock, scream, or sob. Marge slowly closed the freezer door, not seeing the butter in there. Marge found the butter after opening the fridge door and went back to put the butter on the toast.
As Marge did so, she noticed from the corner of her eye the freezer door opening with Bart, Lisa, and Maggie's mangled corpses crawling out, free of the trash bag, and rope. Yet, their necks were still broken and their heads were still blue. Their bulged-out eyes stared directly at their mother as they crawled out, leaving the freezer door wide open. Despite the obvious appearance of the broken bones looking like they'd snap every time they move, they made no such noise. The moving corpses were completely silent, as if they weren't there. Marge completed spreading the butter on the burnt, toasted bread and set the toast on the table with the rest of the completed breakfast. She then noticed Homer's corpse under the kitchen dragging his own body on the floor using his arms to move. The knife was still lodged into his jugular and was dripping blood. The back of his skull was cracked open. Like their children, his lifeless corpse eyes were now wide open and staring directly at his living wife's.
Marge sat down in one of the seats at the table and watched her undead family follow suit. Their bodies moved unworldly as they began to crawl into their seats, making no noise whatsoever. Even the chairs themselves not making any creak. Now that they were all sat down at the table, the deceased family stared at the matriarch blankly. Those soulless undead eyes pierced Marge's soul, it had her in an uncomfortable trance that she could not escape from. Nothing could be heard except for the quiet sound of the freezer motor that was now on thanks to the door being left open. The freezer's cold breeze flew over to Marge and wrapped around her in a cold embrace, yet she paid no mind to this. Marge knew that those eyes no longer had life for soul, yet she felt like there was emotion hidden in there, she didn't know what exactly. She heard the motor get louder and louder, her heart began to quicken. It was getting colder. She knew her loved ones were gone, yet they were still there. She saw her deceased family begin to move, dead eyes still locked onto her... they prepared to lunge at her until... she blinked... and they were gone...
The world was still there. There was no more cold embrace as the freezer door was once again closed. It was as if they never entered. Yet, Marge knew that this was no dream. The breakfast was still on the table, untouched. The recently made toast was also on the table, right where she said it. Throughout the day, Marge did absolutely nothing but blankly stare at the empty table with everything set but untouched. Her blank stare refused to allow any sort of emotion except letting a single tear fall down her face.
THE END