http://slow.writerscafe.org/ZombiieszAreReal The original writings of author ZombiieszAreReal en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776270971 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I’m sitting on the subway at some unimaginable time on someunremembered date in the mid-winter, I’m doing my make-up, using a small compactmirror to shape, contour, and line my face in a somewhat perfect fashion. I’mwearing some boots I got from Rainbows, regretfully so a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1720072/ Its in my step,A gallop of sorts,Bumpy,Quick,Intentionally so;It's in my face,Expressions I've learned,"F**k Me," they say,"Just cum already", they don'tIntentionally so;It's in my voice,It's Practiced- smooth as butter,Soft,Sexy,Intentionally so;It's in my clothingAll of Them have name'sMichael,Cal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1719977/ I suppose I should start this from where it really began. Mychildhood. That’s where hoes are made- in their youngest years of life they aretaught the truth of their world. Do they become doctors, lawyers, gym teacher,presidents, or hookers? It sounds like a big difference from the ot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1719973/ I woke up to the aromatic smell of bacon. A fatty meat, thatjust truly tasted amazing. What would we do without bacon? I’d probably die. Itwas the only thing at the orphanage I ever recognized on my plate, the eggswere always running- the sausage always under-cooked. I slowly rolled .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1719583/ The walk down the hill was much faster and easier than thewalk up, even with my heart tightly clenched in my chest. I didn’t know what todo. I didn’t know how long I had, or how long she would keep me until shekilled me, like she did to that other eleven-year-old girl. I kept m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718873/ After I collected myself, Mary took me upstairs to my roomto help me pack, while Miss Oakland filled out paperwork with the Head Mother.I didn’t have much: A few tattered articles of clothing, a few mediocredrawings, a picture of my Mama and Poppa when they were young, a picture of m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718631/ I didn’t see no point in sleeping. I was nervous. I didn’t wantto go back to the orphanage, the housemothers that ignored everything, and themen that “cared” for the children, the food that could never really beidentified, and a chef nobody has ever seen. At least, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718358/ Dear Readers,   My life is far from perfect. Its far from pretty, or lavish, or happy. I say this now, so when you do read the following chapters and following pages you can't say I didn't warn you properly. This is a sad, vile, gut-wrenching story. Honestly, sometimes I lay in bed at nigh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718348/ Journal/Memior writing of my life since I've entered the Adult Lifestyle http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718346/ I felt my face dripping in sweat as I ran barefoot, the coldsoil squishing beneath my toes with each step. They were yelling after me,chasing me. I continued running. I looked up through my wet hair, the sandyblonde unnoticeable through the mud and darkness of the night. I saw a light.Th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718315/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ZombiieszAreReal/1718312/