Devilbesideyou666

I see dead people. 

But hey, it’s the zombie apocalypse, everyone is seeing dead people, including a blind girl. It’s not like I am that special. 

For a while, I thought I was going to be Cinderella, complete with the cruel stepfamily and the little mice for helpers. But instead of mice, I got demons from hell with a taste for chaos.

Then again, there is nothing wrong with a little chaos in the middle of the apocalypse. It’s what makes life worth living. 

Unfortunately for others, they don’t quite see it that way. You see, I have a gift. One that isn’t exactly mine, but I can use it however I see fit. 

My gift is granting wishes. 

I'm a genie without a bottle, but it would be nice if people appreciated me more. All the humans ask for is the same thing… more food here, shelter there, kill these people, torture those. And I do it all, for a small price. 

I don’t ask for money or food, I can get that on my own. No, I want favors, souls, something that means everything for the other person. And they give it to me. Their momentary desire worth their long term happiness. 

But by the time they discover that, I’m long gone, already moved on to my next… client.

I know I look young, starvation and abuse will do that to a girl. Humans tell me that I shouldn’t be wandering out there alone. Some try to help me… most don’t. But whoever said I was by myself? Just because others couldn’t see them didn’t mean my demons ever left. I still hear their voices in my head, whispering words of encouragement and love. For them, I’d do anything. Kill anyone. Destroy anything. 

After all, life is just a game, right? Those still alive at the end of the day were the lucky ones. Those who died were not. Everything is just a game of chance, all a human has to do is roll the dice.

My only word of advice is to be careful what you wish for… you just might get it.

My name is Hattie, welcome to my world. 

Would you like a cup of tea?

Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse

I shuddered at Jonas' statement. Looking him up and down, I cataloged everything about him. He was older, late 40s, early 50s, and was built like a brick shithouse. He was as tall as Tank and Eric and had a very military haircut with short dark brown hair that was starting to grey at the temples.

He had more wrinkles than I would have thought possible for his age, and his skin was very much weathered from being outside too much. His one defining feature was a long scar that ran down from his left temple to his jar, pulling all the wrinkles tight.

When the silence continued to draw on, I couldn't help but smirk. "No, thank you," I finally said. "I have too many guys on my ass, more than I can deal with, let me tell you. I'm not going to add you to that mix. Besides, I already have both a Dad and a Daddy. I don't need anyone else applying for the position."

Lower Expectations