** New Release**
(Hell in a Handbag)
The smell of Streaker lingers in the air.
I must be dead!
I woke up naked and covered in blood. Teeth marks littered my arms, creating holes and revealing muscle. Someone or something attempted to gnaw off my elbow.
I’m alone! So, maybe, I’m worse than dead.
If friends and family abandoned me, I must have turned into a Streaker. On second thought, it’s an easy “no” to eating body parts.
The idea of brains for dinner disgusts me.
I only see one option ahead, and that’s to find my family and ask why they left me as dinner for the undead.