This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story using 100 words or less that has a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt below.
We were in the heart of a long abandoned area of the park. The greenness of the area hid the desperation of the inhabitants below. Come nightfall the squatters would come back from their days journey in hell. Dirty backpacks, trash bags containing refundable containers, broken grocery carts filled with their worldly possessions. The daily migration never ended. Each day a few crazed zombies added to the population. The poorest of the poor lived right here, underneath the walking path. Some people who had lost their self-respect called this place home.
For some this was another war that they had lost.
Oh Danny Boy! 
As if it isn’t bad enough the castaways have to live in tent cities and under bridges, the authorities even drive them out of their makeshift homes. Good story in giving the homeless a voice.
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So true!
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It is shameful for every society to create zombies like these, people need hope. Great story.
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Indeed. Thanks for commenting.
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Poignant. Profound. All too real. Great write this week. Bear
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Thanks for the kind comment!
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Zombies, the living dead abound in our streets, although some are just con-scammers. However, it is terrible how people just fall off the edge. Well told truth.
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And they keep falling at an increasing rate.
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Yay! Zombies! I’m always up for a well-told zombie tale. Bravo!
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Ahhh! Zombies! lol, great tale.
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