I awoke gradually to sound of dry leaves rustling about along the paved trail in front of me.  The green park bench I was laying on was moist with the morning dew which helped me realize it was time to get up and head to my little hole of a home.  Sitting up seemed to take more effort than my hang over and muddled brain could muster, but I knew I couldn’t stay here all day.

     I lit a smoke and gazed across the park to the swings creaking from the breeze, letting in memories of a peaceful childhood, before the accident that killed my parents and left me a ward of the state. Whoever thinks life will turn on you the way it does.  Living hand to mouth had been the routine for some years now, using drugs and partying to escape the inevitable realization that this is my life along with millions of other in this so called free country.   Free to go broke, free to become a lost member of the world, free to hate.  Free to live where societies unseen, crowd together, more and more everyday, as the country turned its back on those who once dreamt of middle class.
     It was still early as I looked around to noticed that autumn had passed its stage of creeping up on man, and had rolled into a vision of brown crumpling leaves covering the earth and dead trees whose branches scratched at a bleak sky.  The quiet was accompanied with near-condemned buildings and broken windows, worn out porches and over-grown lawns.  Gazing around, taking a long haul off my cigarette, I saw there were a few figures wandering aimlessly around the park.  Some of them were rummaging amongst the garbage bins with slow arthritic fingers, as if they had done it a thousand times before.  Their watchful eyes, hoping to glance something bearable.  Others were just wandering, lost in their own destitution.
      I gathered my senses, along with my belongings, and stumbled off the park bench, brushing bits of green paint from my wrinkled clothes.  Thoughts of a cold shower and some cleaner garments became overwhelming and with a deep breath of fresh autumn air, I headed for home.
     I had only walked a few yards when I realized that the others from the park were lurking about behind me, while some of them were making their way towards me, with a grim hopelessness surrounding them. “They must be drug addicts ‘cos I can’t imgine anything else they’d ask me for”, I thought to myself.  I could see that their skin was deathly pale, and looked to be rotting.  An unearthly feeling of human decay was all around them, and now they were all around me, getting closer, circling almost.  Not wanting to give up my spare change, I quickened my pace. The hopes of being left alone materialized, as I spotted the end of the block, and the corner beyond, to my street.  In a few minutes I would be home, chuckling over my feelings of dread over these paupers.  As I turned the corner there were three more, just as grotesque as those from the park, standing there, staring at me hungrily.  It was as though they had been waiting, like they smell me coming .  Before I had time to react to being confronted , one of them grabbed at my arms with the others following his actions.  They began tearing at my clothes to chew at my bare flesh.  They hadn’t much strength , and I quickly gathered my sense and pushed through them, and ran.
     Glancing back I could see that some of them were trying to run after me, but their mortal remains were not allowing them to.  Others were just staggering around the street trying to get into peoples homes.  As I turned back around, I saw several more ahead of me, looking more alarming than the last, as they came at me with their hollow blackness in their eyes, arms outstretched grasping.  The only emotion emanating from them was blood thirsty hunger.  I realized they are not just vagrants, but some form of cannibalistic ghouls who should be food for worms but are walking around.  Before I had time to rationalize  about it, I decide to dart between two buildings and make my way homeward, hoping to get there before another occurrence.   The idea of becoming edible is more than just unnerving.
     I didn’t see any of them, but I knew I could not stop running. Within moments, and out of breath I arrived at the bottom of the wooden staircase that led to my second floor room. I scanned the area thinking of a way to save myself from a stomach turning death.  “If I could get to my large claw hammer from the ledge I might be able to smash these shitty ass stairs. They look like they’re gonna fall apart anyways. I wont be able to get back down without crackin’ an ankle, but no one can get up that far”, I thought to myself.  I ran up the stairs, envisioning my plan. Grabbing my toolbox, one of the few things I kept of my father’s, I bolted half way down the staircase and began smashing the moldy wood into shards, taking steps back for those I destroyed.  Once at the top I could see the monsters covering the streets, closing in to see where the noise was coming from.  I had finished just in time.
     It was then that I heard a sound from my cat that made me feel very sick. I looked to the door of my apartment to see that it was ajar.  I lifted my tired arms and relunctantly opened this now heavy piece of wood, and looked inside, knowing it was not empty. What I found was the earthy smell of rotting flesh, the wet sounds of deep, gurgling moans, coming from mouths covered in my cats blood.  There were ghouls in the room, just as the ones on the street, surrounding me, grabbing me body with clenched, bloodied hands and closing the door behind me….
       (news announcer on the clock radio): ..    when asked about why the minister of finance is giving so much out for the corporate pharmaceutical  and chemical companies instead of the government run ones, his office stated that they had been working with them on new and effective ways to combat sickness in the lower classes with free clinics opening up all around the city…