Long awaited let down...

Have you ever thought about what the world would look like during a zombie apocalypse? I'm sure that the majority of guys out there could give you quite an in-depth explanation on how they would survive, where they would shelter, and their preferred method of disposing of the ambulatory worm food. I can't count the times I've spent discussing strategies, weapons, and the conditions that would most favorably initiate a widespread Lazarus effect. While my good common sense tells me that the topic of this conversation lies solely in the world of fantasy, I recently proved to myself that at least a "small" part of my consciousness holds on to the hope that one day I will be able to run through a shopping mall testing a myriad of weapons to deduce which one really is best. Let me explain, during an excursion to one of the local bastions of capitalism's undisputed king, I experienced a thrill so raw, so subconscious that I am still in awe of it. While strolling through the endless lanes of vehicles, I became aware of a truly unique sound tugging at the edge of my consciousness. My brain quickly processed this sound into the category of things that are very familiar to me. Within seconds, my focus shifted to identifying this sound. I would soon learn why my body was starting to exhibit all the signs of growing excitement. As the sound took over more and more of my conscious thought, my mind raced to connect this sound to a memory archived in the boundless vault that rests between my ears. This was not just any sound, this was a logical anomaly. I knew I had heard this sound before and yet I also knew with great certainty that I had never experienced the source of this sound face to face. Like a bolt of lightning branching through the sky, an electrical surge coursed through every nerve of my body as my mind latched upon the elusive memory. In an instant, my mind recalled every bit of information it had stored on the thing from which the sound originated.

"To beat death, you've got to know death." - Schatzi

The eyes are the windows to the soul. What then, if the soul has fled? What would you see if you were to gaze into the eyes after the body has given up it's soul? What emotions could be stirred in the black abyss left behind? Could a mind continue on relying only on base animalistic instincts? A mind, devoid of all emotion might latch on to the one primal urge that all living things share: FEED! A body, no longer living, but animated. Driven by the only impulses available to it. A lumbering shell, it's limbs propelling it forward on an endless search for food. It's appendages shifting and dragging in unlikely ways. It's shuffling feet grate upon the ground. The sound, like a wounded animal dragging itself off to die, may lure in predators who think they've found easy prey. Too close though, and the predator becomes the prey. It was this sound that tore at my consciousness. A Zombie! Was this the beginning of a worldwide epidemic? Had what existed only in fantasy become a reality? As far fetched as it seems, I could not keep my body from experiencing a moment of exhilaration. The day that had been talked about, planned so methodically, here at last! I turned on the spot, intent on laying eyes on this monstrosity that I knew so well. My eyes scanned the people as they went to and fro, scrutinizing each person to see if they were alive or dead. Then I saw it! Moving away from me, in the next parking lane. A body, plodding along with a gait so far from that of my own, that it could not be mistaken. I focused on the foot that was skewed at an odd angle, being dragged along, lifeless. This was it! There in front of me, I witnessed the wretch in all it's unliving glory! Something strange though, not one person near the beast was running in terror. This couldn't be right, surely this brute should instill fear in all who witness it! I inspect vagrant again. As light shatters the darkness of a newly opened tomb, I realize the horrible mistake that has occured. What I see before me, although it is a perfect description of the walking undead, is merely a man, flesh and blood and alive. I study the poor being in disbelief for many moments. What I took for a shambling undead husk was in reality just and ordinary person afflicted with a debilitating palsy. My heart sinks as I realize my dreams of hacking through waves of undead legions are broken. I wonder what this poor handicapped individual would think if I could recount to them my experience of that day. After hearing my story, what would they see as they gaze into my eyes, the windows to my very soul?