The Rotting Ones (Horror Story)

It started with a strange smell.

The townspeople of Old Haven first noticed it wafting through the air one hot summer evening—a stench so foul it clung to everything. At first, they thought it was a dead animal somewhere in the forest or a rotting pile of garbage left too long. But no one could have guessed the truth.

The dead were coming back.

No one knew why, but the moment the sun set that evening, the first scream ripped through the town, piercing the peaceful night. Lena, who had been sitting on her front porch, heard it first. She stood quickly, straining to see through the gathering dusk, her heart hammering in her chest. The scream came again, closer this time.

“What in the world…?” she muttered, stepping off the porch and into the street.

That’s when she saw them.

They came from the forest—slow, staggering, rotting. Figures that once might have been human, their skin gray and torn, their eyes hollow and glazed. They moved with unnatural jerks, their bodies decayed and broken, as though death had only slowed them down, not stopped them.

One of them stepped into the street just a few feet away from her. Its face was barely recognizable as human—half of its jaw was missing, and its eyes were clouded with a milky film. But it wasn’t the appearance that terrified Lena—it was the sound.

The thing moaned, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers up her spine. The smell of decay hit her like a wave, and Lena staggered backward, her heart racing. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The dead… they were walking.

Before she could react, more figures emerged from the shadows. From the alleyways, from behind buildings, from the forest. They moved in a slow, methodical crawl, their twisted bodies dragging across the ground. And then, she saw her neighbor, Henry, rushing out from his house, his face pale with fear.

“What the hell is happening?” he shouted.

Lena could barely speak. “I… I don’t know. They’re everywhere!”

Henry didn’t wait for an explanation. He ran toward the first zombie, holding up a baseball bat, ready to strike. “Get back!” he yelled, swinging the bat at the creature.

The zombie stumbled from the impact, but then, as if driven by some primal force, it lunged forward. Its rotting hands gripped Henry’s arm with unholy strength, pulling him in closer. Lena screamed as the creature sank its teeth into Henry’s shoulder, the sound of flesh tearing filling the air.

“No!” Lena shouted, but it was too late.

Henry’s screams echoed through the street as more of the undead closed in around him, their mouths dripping with hunger. Lena could barely watch as they tore him apart, their bloody hands reaching out for more.

She turned and ran, her heart pounding in her ears. The town had descended into chaos. People ran in every direction, some trying to escape, others frozen in fear. The dead were everywhere, creeping through the streets, attacking anyone who got too close. And for every person they bit, a new zombie would rise shortly after, adding to their growing numbers.

---

Lena found herself hiding in an old shed at the edge of town, her hands trembling as she locked the door behind her. She could still hear the moans outside, the slow shuffling of feet dragging along the dirt. Her mind raced. How had this happened? Why now?

She had heard the old stories, of course—legends passed down by the elders about a plague that once swept through the region, a curse that caused the dead to rise and feast on the living. But that was just an old wives' tale, right? Something to scare the children?

No one believed it… until now.

The sound of footsteps drew closer, and Lena held her breath, peeking through the cracks in the wooden door. A horde of zombies staggered past, their heads twitching side to side, as if they were sniffing the air. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob.

They were hunting her.

The minutes stretched into hours, and soon, the sky began to lighten. Dawn was approaching, but there was no comfort in the rising sun. The zombies were still out there, and Lena knew she couldn’t stay hidden forever. She needed to find help, to figure out if anyone had survived.

Steeling herself, Lena unlocked the door and stepped out into the gray light of early morning. The town was eerily silent, save for the occasional moan in the distance. The streets were littered with bodies—some freshly dead, others… still moving.

She couldn’t stay here. She needed to reach the highway, find a way out.

But as she made her way through the town, something strange caught her eye. The zombies… they weren’t mindless after all. They were gathering—not just stumbling around, but moving in a specific direction, as though they were being guided by something.

Curiosity mixed with terror in Lena’s chest. She followed them, staying hidden in the shadows, watching from a distance.

The zombies were heading toward the cemetery.

---

When she reached the cemetery, Lena’s heart nearly stopped. The entire place was alive with movement—graves bursting open, the dead clawing their way out of the earth. But that wasn’t the worst part.

At the center of the cemetery, standing tall and silent, was a figure dressed in a long, tattered cloak. Its face was obscured, but Lena could feel its presence—a dark, powerful energy that seemed to control the undead.

The figure raised its arms, and the zombies responded, their moans growing louder as they gathered around the cemetery. The ground trembled, and Lena realized with horror what was happening.

This wasn’t just an outbreak. This was a summoning.

The dead were being raised, and they were being led by something far worse than any legend could have prepared her for.

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