by Catherine Kenwell
It had been too long. The infernal thirst after the apocalypse had depleted her. There was nothing left.
First, she feasted on the recently deceased; she was fortunate to find bodies, still warm after the blast. But their blood was sick, tainted with poison. It made her feel ill, a malaise she hadn’t felt in hundreds of years.
Could she find the courage and strength?
Was she pure enough of spirit?
She caressed the white oak stake, tracing its length with her long fingers. No more daylight. No lethal sun. No easy way out.
She positioned its tip, and plunged.
Catherine Kenwell lives in Barrie, Ontario, with her husband and assorted creatures. She is an author, mediator and jewelry designer. After 30 years in corporate communications, Catherine began writing horror and inspirational non-fiction. Her work has been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul and several horror anthologies.