The Girl

If you know me at all, then you know that I am not a fan of zombies. I think the whole concept is seriously overused and just not that interesting. However, more recently I heard of a zombie movie that I thought I might actually like. It's called Train to Busan in case anyone is interested. Anyway, the general story is about a father trying to save his young daughter during a zombie apocalypse. Obviously there's more that happens, but that's kind of the bare bones of the plot. In reading about this movie, I suddenly thought, wouldn't it be terrifying if the kids were the zombies, not the adults. That's not an aspect that's been hugely explored, at least not as far as I'm aware; I'm not a zombie aficionado. And so the idea for this story was born. I think it's pretty clear that it's not complete, but I wanted to share what I have so far to see if people thought it was worth continuing and just get some general opinions. So please, read and comment, constructive criticism is very much appreciated as always.


It started with one child, a single child living in the countryside outside of Berlin. A smart, sweet child who suddenly disappeared. After days of frantic searching, she was found at last covered in dirt and mud and blood. Naturally her anxious parents rushed her to the hospital, but it was soon determined that there was nothing physically wrong with her. The blood was not her own. As the days passed, her parents came to realize that their sweet little girl was gone and in her place was a primitive, increasingly violent and terribly strong creature that began to attack anyone who came near. The doctors were utterly perplexed by her condition. Months passed with little progress in treating her. Their one discovery was that although she behaved primitively, she was almost disturbingly intelligent, certainly far beyond that of a normal eight year old. It was several more months before they began to notice that the girl was not hostile towards the other children on the floor when they passed by her window. If any adult passed by too closely, she would violently attack the window, smashing at it with her fists, her eyes wild. But when a child passed by, she simply watched them intently, almost longingly, sometimes even reaching out to them. The doctors decided to perform an experiment of sorts. The children on that floor had long been given up on by their parents and other family members and accidents did happen from time to time. If anything went wrong, it could easily be covered up.

One year to the day after the girl was admitted, the doctors allowed her to enter the closely monitored playroom unrestrained. Seven other children from the floor were also present. The doctors watched as the girl approached each child and pressed her forehead to theirs. After completing her strange ritual with each child, she returned to the door leading into the playroom and stood quietly, waiting to be taken back to her room. Her actions baffled the doctors. Never before had she been so quiet, so obedient. They immediately began to congratulate themselves on what they perceived as progress. But things soon began to deteriorate.

First one child, then another began exhibiting violent behavior. A child with irreversible brain damage suddenly began to make enormous progress with basic cognitive functions. Another child, paralyzed from the waist down, began responding to external stimulus in his feet and legs. Soon every child on the floor seemed to have been affected in one way or another. The doctors congratulated themselves on their successful "treatment" of the children showing improvement and threw themselves into researching what had gone wrong with those who seemed to be declining. But slowly even those improvements began to decline as the children gradually grew stronger and more violent. They ran tests, consulted with other doctors, tried new medications and generally did everything they could think of to help the children but nothing they tried made any difference. They all failed to make the simple connection that they were all slowly becoming like the girl.

It was on a day like any other that they at last realized their mistake. The fifteen children who resided on the floor had all been gathered in the playroom. The doctors had discovered that they were easier to control if they were all in one place. Being together seemed to relax them and lessen their violent tendencies. One of the nurses, a pretty young woman of twenty-six, was attempting to engage two of the girls in making origami animals when she slid her finger along the edge of the paper too swiftly and cut herself. She swore silently as she stared at the blood slowly oozing from the shallow wound. Glancing up at the two girls, she found them and every other child in the room staring intently at her bleeding finger. She stood up quickly, unnerved by their stares and began to slowly back away towards the door. The three security guards who stood just outside the door motioned for her to move slowly. The door was only four feet from where she stood but she never made it.

As one, the children set upon her, ripping and tearing with their hands and teeth. A single agonized scream filled the air before she was forever silenced. The three other nurses in the room leapt to their feet and ran for the door but the terrified guards refused to open it. Covered in the young woman's blood, eyes glowing with an insane light, the children turned towards the three survivors. Pleading desperately, they slammed their fists against the door, fingers clawing at the hair line crack where the doors met. The children advanced slowly, the little girl in the lead. One of the nurses turned, his back pressed to the glass. Stretching out one trembling hand towards the advancing children, he could only get out one word: "Please."

The little girl stopped, tilting her head as she regarded the man, examining him as if he was a particularly interesting specimen. Crouching down slightly, she bared her teeth in a terrifying smile and giggled.

"Hungry."

Horrified screams filled the room as the children sprang at them, tearing them limb from limb. Their blood bathed the walls like crimson paint as arteries were severed and the life slowly drained from their broken bodies. The guards turned away, sickened, unable to bear the sight of the children feasting on the bodies of their caregivers.