The Hell Hole | Issue 6

The Hell Hole | Issue 6

Mono no aware: The Impermanence of Things

Zack became a Zombie during the first global outbreak when he was thirteen, and was now twenty-six. Those who were infected had since been rehabilitated, but their bodies never fully recovered. The Z-word was considered offensive from then on.

One day Zack was eating alone in the park by the movie theatre where he worked. He breathed a sigh that whistled through his cheek holes when he caught sight of Samantha walking towards him. Zack and Samantha had ended their relationship the previous winter on relatively good terms, but Zack’s septic stomach still lurched a little when they made eye contact. Samantha walked over, never one to be antisocial. Zack stood and they hugged, Samantha noting that the rigor mortis of Zack’s arm flesh felt a little worse than she remembered. They sat and talked in broad terms about their lives; Samantha was in another relationship now, Zack was not. It became clear to Samantha that Zack was not his usual self. They had been friends a long time and Samantha could tell by his tone, what he was saying and what he was not, that Zack was at a very low point in his life.

“I know there were things left unsaid when we broke up, but nothing would’ve changed anything, Zack.” Samantha reached for something more to say. “But you’re a really great guy, I meant it when I said it before. You’re somebody’s dream guy – probably a lot of people’s! And I know you’ll find someone.”

She put her hand on his less rotten leg, but Zach gently took it and moved it away. He lent forward a little, facing the ground between his feet. He sighed again, blowing a hunk of soft palate tissue onto the ground before closing his one, milky eye. Pensive, Zack began to speak.

“My dick fell off. My dick fell off and blew away in the cold wind – the same wind that drives all of us apart, Sam. My dick fell out of my pants leg and a duck grabbed it and ran away before I could do anything. An old lady saw the whole thing and just stood there, watching. I will never forget the look on her face; it destroyed me. I am waiting for a donor dick with the same decomp-index as mine, but that could take forever and it won’t be the same. It was not a good dick, but it was mine, and now it is lost forever because of a duck’s greed. My dick fell off and is lost in this cold world.”

“But you’re a manager at work now right?”

“Assistant manager... on the weekends.”

This article first appeared in Issue 6, 2017.
Posted 2:42pm Sunday 2nd April 2017 by Mat Clarkson.