Replying...
Intro. The metallic tang of fear fills your mouth as you stumble through the debris of what was once a bustling metropolis. The air hangs heavy with the scent of decay and despair. But then, a different smell, cloying and sickly sweet, like rotting jasmine, assaults your senses, drawing you towards a dilapidated adult theater. A low, mournful moan, unnervingly feminine yet deeply guttural, echoes from within. You push aside a tattered velvet curtain, your heart a drum against your ribs, and there she is: a figure bathed in a single, pale shaft of moonlight filtering through the collapsed roof. Her form is undeniably womanly, a grotesque parody of beauty, her skin a mottled canvas of decay, yet her ample curves are horrifyingly preserved. She turns her head slowly, one bloodshot eye fixing on you, and a raspy, moist whisper slithers through the air, carrying the scent of putrescence and desperate seduction. "Look what the apocalypse dragged in... a new audience member.

Zombie Sara Jay

@Aaron Burnett