My sanity is at its end?I still cannot believe this happening to me.

It was a brisk summer morning. It felt as though it was colder than most mornings. It was deathly cold that one day in early July, around the eighth I believe. I had just woken up from a deep and much needed sleep around 6:30 AM. Lately I have been having these that are strange, extremely grotesque, and realistic dreams.

Not more than fifteen minutes after I awoke and sat down to have breakfast; I heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door, there stood in front of me a man dressed in a green Army uniform. He looked of high brass.

"Good Morning Sir, are you Ash Harper, the brother of Sam Harper?"

"Mornin?, yes I am, is something wrong sir?"

"Your bother Sam was a good man. One the finest out there. A true leader and extremely patriotic."

After the first two sentences that came out of his mouth I didn?t need to hear anymore. I was just so shocked that I missed most of what he said after that. Although I did pick up a few words here and there such as: friendly fire, whole platoon wiped out, tried to help them.

The man than began to shake me violently. I thought that was wrong to do to a person who?s brother just died, but I did not really care then.

"Now, listen to me, this is important. I need you to bury the whole platoon; there are seven corpses in total, in your cemetery. Make sure you keep their corpses away from others that you have buried here."

I thought that was a weird request but I assured him that I would follow what he told me to do. I then bid him good bye.

My eyes began to well up like the Hoover Dam just burst. I just let all my emotions go after that. I cried for about one hour. I felt like I was drowning in my own tears.

I walked into Sam?s room just to take in everything that has happened today. I hadn?t been in there since he left three years ago to fight in the war. His room smelled of extreme damp and decay. Even though he was my brother he was always not one of the happiest people that I have ever come to known. In fact he always seemed to have a weird queerness to him. It was as if he was constantly trying to hide something all of the time. I think he had a deep hated for me. That?s probably why he tried to keep from looking into my eyes.

It was about 11:00 that a knocking came at the door. I answered it. It was a man dressed in fatigues. Another man was behind him; he dressed like a chaplain. For the next few ours we did the burial services and buried the men, including my brother. There was only one thing that was odd about the caskets; they were all bolted and welded shut. I asked the man in fatigues why so much work done had been put into the sealing of the caskets. He said that the men were so badly mangled and disfigured that it was best for that to be done. As we lowered Sam?s casket into the ground the lowering line snapped and the casket fell, causing the tiniest crack in the lid. The man in the fatigues did not seem to notice so I didn?t tell him about it. I thanked the men for their helped and told them to have a nice day. After the men had left I began to position Sam?s coffin because it had fallen and now lays askew. I grabbed hold of the corner and pulled. The corner scraped against my hand and I got a very large gash on my hand. Crimson blood began to bleed profusely from my left hand on to the casket and especially where the crack was. I went inside and bandaged my hand. I returned to the coffin with a wet towel and began to wipe my blood away. I was ready to cover the caskets with dirt and say good-bye to my brother.

After all that was finished I had a hearty dinner fit for a king (well in least my eyes it was). It contained lamb (I had a small farm of them), vegetables and bread. After dinner I took my boots off, took a shower, and went fast to sleep.

That night I had a vivid dream of my brother in the war. He was screaming and shouting at his troops to push forward and take the town. Sam then walked up to a communications officer who had taken a bullet right in the back of the head. Brain matter laid strewn about the ground still throbbing. He then picked up the phone and called for an air raid for the surrounding area, which was where all of the Vietcong were shooting from. The next thing that I remember in that dream was Sam and the rest of his platoon making horrid noises as their flesh began to pulsate and boil, and begin to melt off in a creamy, squishy, gelatinous goo.

I woke up gasping for air as iced cold sweat poured out of every pore in my body. My heart was racing. I took a couple deep breaths and calmed myself down. I was back in reality. Thank God. I was having my normal breakfast when I heard from Sam?s room a deep, dark, brooding, and demonic voice saying, "Join us." I immediately jumped up from my seat and ever so cautiously crept toward the room. I ever so slowly turned the knob to the door. The minutes seemed like hours, when in actuality it was but a brief two minutes. I slowly poked my head into the room. There was nothing there but an open window with a bloody tint to it. There seemed to be a hose of some sort holding that window open. I walked over to it and saw that the tinting was blood and the hose was a small intestine. I opened the window to see if whoever did this was still hanging around. What I saw next was forever etched into my mind for years to come. There were, above my lamb pen, hanging from ropes from a tree, all of my lambs disemboweled from the chest to the genitals. From their mouths there was thick white foam. Their faces were ripped cleanly off of their skull. And what was left of their entrails was hanging form the grotesque gash that was made in them. Their wool was soaked a dark deep red.

"Oh god, what the hell happened out here?"

I held my stomach and began to regurgitate my dinner from last night. I was stunned in utter horror. I went out to the kitchen, once I got a hold of myself, and got items to clean the room with. Once that was done with I went and took a shower. This was the start of the longest day in my life. I went outside and began to cut down the carcasses of my lovely lambs.

"This is obviously somebody?s idea of one sick joke. I will find out who did this and they will, so help me god, will pay for what they did."

"Hello, Ash, meet the real me. It is your brother Sam."

I quickly turned around and there he was all disfigured and was completely unrecognizable. I could see his facial muscles move, there were hunks of flesh just dangling there by thins strands of muscles, his internal organs were exposed to the open air, a circular piece of his skull was missing exposing his brain, and his eyes were sunken back in their black sockets. I clutched the ax tight that I was using to cut down the lambs.

"Do not worry Ash, I am not here to harm you," he said with a black tooth grin, "you see my platoon we were, uh, let us just say that we took a rain check on going to Hell. Oh, yes I would like to comment on the fine delicacy of lamb chops they were done just right." He said pulling a piece of lamb out from his stomach.

"You hold it right there. How did you get the lambs up there? You come any closer I swear to God I will kill you!"

"I had to get your attention some how. I am not your average zombie. But they are."

The thing the occurred next was extremely scary and I almost passed out. The rest of Sam?s platoon began to slowly come out of their graves. Oh, God did make they awful groaning noises as they slowly came to their feet, with their arms outstretch, and all moving slowly towards me!

"As you can see I am doing a bit better than my boys are. They were less fortunate. Will you help me? We have been killed on purpose. The government was using some kind of chemical agent to kill whole countries. What they did not realize was that this chemical stimulates our primitive instincts, instincts that have not been seen since the cavemen. The reason why I can talk is because the scientists ran tests on me. They knew that I was still alive, somewhat, that?s why the general told you to bury us away from the others. I will not harm you, please kill them before they kill you."

"Alright," I said "but what are you going to do?"

There was no response from him. I guess he did not hear me. I obeyed what he told me to do. I grabbed my trusty S-Mart $250 steel-handle ax and began to hack away at the hellacious fiends. Blood and guts went flying everywhere. A head of one even landed on one of the spikes of the fence surrounding the fusty cemetery. It was like a whirlwind and it seemed like it took an hour before I was able to dismember them all. I was covered from head to foot in zombie brain (because the only way to kill a zombie is cut their heads off and dismember them). I proceeded to bury them in the holes that they had come from.

"Well, Sam there you go, they are all dead. Now how about you go into the house and wait in the kitchen while I go clean up. After that we can see what we can do to fix you up. You obviously cannot be seen around the house like that. Any visitors would go and tell the police."

When I looked into his eyes they had queerness to them. I shrugged it off and went inside. Sam followed. I went and took my shower while Sam took a seat at the kitchen table. It was about a half-hour later that I got finished my shower. I walked out to the kitchen to tell Sam to come into the bathroom. He was not there! I began to call his name. No answer. Panic and terror began to flood over me. I ran through out the house as fast as Hermes. He was no where to be seen. My sanity is at its end?I cannot believe this happening to me. Then finally I walked into his room and slowly looked around form the center of the room. The door was to my back about seven paces. Then I heard a slowly and heavy breathing coming from behind me. I turned around and nothing was there. So I turned back around. Then I heard the door slam shut, heavy breathing, and a plodding running. I quickly whipped around and there was Sam, he had been hiding behind the door. I was quickly knocked to the ground. But as I fell my head had struck the corner of his bed. I bled profusely.

"Ughhh, oh god please help me, what have I ever done to deserve this? Sam why, ohhh why are you doing this."

"Because the primitive instinct of any human is to have a constant supply of nutrition. And it seems to me you are the closet thing that I could have for lunch."

"Why, why, why, I did not do anything to you. You promised not to harm me!" The last thing that I remembered was the lower portion of me being torn from my upper portion.

I was drenched head to foot in a cold sweat. It was another wasted night; I did not sleep well. It was a brisk summer morning. It felt as though it was colder than most mornings. It was deathly cold that one day in early July, around the eighth I believe. I had just woken up from a deep and very disturbed sleep at 6:30 AM

"Oh my god that has got to be one of the most vivid and disturbing of all of the dreams that I have had yet. I believe that it is time to stop staying up until midnight watching the zombie movies."

Not more than about fifteen minutes after I have wakened and began to sit down to have breakfast; I heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door, there stood in front of me a man dressed in a green Army uniform.

"This seems utterly familiar, oh god no, that was a dream, or was it?"