Short Story

Hola comrades:
Two days ago I wrote an extremely short story. Forty-eight hours later, I still like it a lot. So without further ado, voila:


Rubber Bands

There was a girl who collected rubber bands. She grew to be a woman, and she couldn’t stop herself. Thousands upon thousands of rubber bands filled her house. They were, frankly, unnerving. She stacked them neatly round bedposts and the necks of bottles and the fat bottoms of jars. She filled her drawers and closets and cabinets with rubber bands.

She got old. The apocalypse came. A group of survivors banded together to live communally in her house. The rubber bands proved invaluable for making alarms around the perimeter and booby-traps and surprisingly lethal slingshots. The food and ammo would run out long before the endlessly useful rubber bands did. She was so pleased, even though a zombie ate her on the fifth day of the siege.

The End


I am dedicating this story to my brother Frederic, because it is the first thing I have ever written with zombies in it, and I know how happy that will make him.

And yes, I know dedications are supposed to go at the beginning of the story, but if I had done that, I would have given away the zombie surprise.

All my love,


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