The late afternoon sky was the color of salmon pâté. A welcome departure from the dreary cooked tuna grey that had colored the heavens in the past consecutive days. Indeed, a pleasant twilight to stroll under after a hearty repast of pan-fried snapper, sweet potato wedges, and a slice or three of peach tart, with a side scoop of Madagascan vanilla bean ice cream, of course.
While walking through the neighborhood at a leisurely pace, and glancing up frequently at the orange firmament above with a curious frown, as if waiting for a reply to a deep and meaningful question that had been weighing heavily on my mind since the beginning of comprehension, I came across a skeletal tree, stripped of its leaves and decencies. It was an eerie aspect, this contrast, turning the previously stunning sky into an ominous vision; like a telling scene from some horror movie where you have an inkling that the terrors are about to begin as soon as the lights go out, i.e. the zombies are about to reveal themselves with sanguinary gusto as soon as the sun fully sets.
With that disturbing image in mind, my pace quicken as I returned home and locked the doors; as if such a sanctum could withstand a trashing from violent zombies. Admittedly, despite considering myself a person of science with the logical judgement of Dr. Sheldon Cooper from “The Big Bang Theory” (if I may be so vain to as to flatter myself in this matter), I fear zombies as an arachnophobia hates pictures of hairy spiders; in spite of the fact that my demons don’t exists, yet.
All in all, what would have been a delightful stroll under a peachy welkin turned into a speed walk exercise due to fear of the known unknown. Nerves thus shaken, I prescribed myself a steaming cup of hot chocolate, using imported organic soy milk, of course.