Unbelievable Bad Times in Downville

I'm mediocre, this isn't a self-pitying phrase for you to feel sorry for me. By the way, I don't give a damn what you think about me either, we don't know each other and I'm not quite willing to fill your head with catchphrases and pretty stories. Life is brutal, that's all we need to know.

Downville is an ordinary little town in the middle of nowhere and nothing goes on around here either, but we have an ice rink that's worth it. The weirdest thing is none never noticed it before. Maybe the universe got tired of our little meaningless life and sent some entertainment or is just another sign of imminent climate changing, nobody thought critically about it, we just enjoy the gift.

People were piling up on makeshift skates on the track and laughter echoed through the bushes surrounding the small frozen pond, tragedy seemed imminent, but in fact, carefulness is not a strong skill around here, the crowd were too busy enjoying the one glorious moment of their boring little lives.

Without warning a boy was trapped in the middle of the frozen pond, a small group mobilized to help him, meanwhile the ice was cracking and before anyone noticed it was too late. The ice broke like a great jigsaw puzzle, the laughter gave way to cold, terrified screams.

The boy struggled with extraordinary strength while a brave few tried to help him. Panic was widespread, people were running like clumsy chickens, too frightened to realize the greatest blasphemy was yet to come.

Even after the boy was taken out of the pond there was a strange vibe in the water, as if something else wanted to emerge and that's exactly what happened, as in an open-air nightmare several people appeared among the cracked pieces of ice. Where before there had been despair and screams, there was an ominous silence.

Downville is a peaceful and terrifyingly boring town, people don't appear out of nowhere amidst frozen pond, especially when they've already been presumed dead. The not-so-dead came out of the water and looked lost. While the living were too tense and held their breath, trying to decide between panic and jubilation.

Then someone finally yelled

"It's a miracle!"

It was Maryam Glod, the pastor's wife who was on the ice rink with her granddaughters who immediately knelt on the floor raising her arms to the sky and praying

"It's blasphemy"

George Huston, owner of the hardware store, raged on the other side and without thinking twice drew his gun and shot Gertrude Simpson, the old librarian, in the head. She fell to the ground without even having time to understand that she was the undead.

Maryam Glod screamed so loud it seemed to damage the vocal cords she used in Sunday praises. Panic set in and Downville went rock bottom in the speed of the light, the ice rink turned into a battleground between the living and the undead almost as frozen as Popsicles.

People huddled like wild animals, even the blades of innocent ice skates were now lethal weapons in the hands of peasants unfamiliar with the term zombie. The fearful screams gave way to growling sounds, in the background fireworks were being set off during Mayor Robert's much talked about wedding anniversary, the finest private party you can have in a fifth-rate hole.

I've never had high expectations about anything in my life, but surely the beginning of the apocalypse straight out of a frozen pond in the middle of the dumbest city in the world seemed surprising to me.

Word of the frozen dead who came back to life spread and the bloody night of ice brought 15 minutes of glorious fame to Downville, but within weeks the resurrected phenomenon spread to the four corners of the world and Downville was once again an anonymous town in the apocalyptic world while my zombie mom is locked in the basement.