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Author: langbot
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English[en]
Lovely! I had chosen well. Then a slight movement in the afternoon shadows. David didn’t see it at first – zombies have poor eyesight, remember? “Whoever or whatever you are,” I thought, “for God’s sake, stay still.” It didn’t. This time, David spotted the movement and immediately let out an almighty bellow. He broke free of my grip and was off in hot pursuit. The small figure ran for all it was worth – and I set off after both of them, cursing loudly. David’s zombie blood was up. (Oh, I forgot, they don’t have blood, do they? Hmm. Maybe they’ve got blood but it just doesn’t move about much – what with no beating heart and all.) Anyway, the chase was on. Both David and the small, retreating figure were vaulting tombstones and dodging around pencil-pine trees. David was gaining in the pursuit but not a lot – though both were definitely leaving me behind. I noticed the small figure was headed to where I’d been taking David anyway, one of the large family crypts. David roared and the small figure ‘squealed like a little girlie’ – though I was reasonably sure it was not a girl. It didn’t seem to move like a girl. In fact, though male, it seemed to be a dwarf of some kind. “Open the fucking door!” it screamed as it ran. “Paul! Get the door open now! There’s a fucking zombie!” Yes, definitely male – and familiar, definitely familiar. “Paul”, whoever he was, was too slow. The door of the crypt remained firmly closed as the small male reached it – and, within seconds, David fell upon him with a triumphant roar. “Oh, shit,” I thought. “David’s just caught lunch.” And I knew, from what had happened to Meryl yesterday, there was not a thing I could do to prevent David’s mealtime from taking its tragic course.
Cornish[kw]
Ass o teg! My re wrussa dewis da. Ena, gwayans munys yn skeusow an dohajydh. Y’n kynsa le, ny’n gwelas Davydh – porth kov nag eus gwel dha dhe’n zombis. “Piwpynag (po pypynag) osta,” a brederis vy, “na way mann, awos Duw.” Gwayans. Y’n tor’ma, Davydh a’n aspias hag, a-dhistowgh, a dhellos bedhyglans pur vras. Ev a skapyas ow dalghenn ha resek uskis yn-unn-bursywya. An figur byghan a resas uskissa galla – ha my a dhallathas resek rag kachya an dhew, ow mollethi yn ughel. Pur doemm o goes-zombi Davydh. (A, my re ankovsa. Nyns esa goes dhe’n zombis, dell grysav. Hmm. Martesen, yma goes dhedha mes ny wra ev gwaya meur – drefenn na wrons i lemmel, aga holonnow.) Yn neb kas, an helghva re dhallathsa. Yth esa an dhew, Davydh ha’n figur byghan ow kildenna, ow lamma meyn-bedh hag ow koheles pinennow-pluvenn. Y ferkyis an figur byghan dhe resek wor’tu ha’n le may ervirsen ledya Davydh, onan yntra’n kleudhegellow teyluyek bras. Davydh a vedhyglas ha’n figur a skrijas kepar ha myrghik – kynth ov sur lowr nag o myrgh. Nyns esa ow kwaya kepar ha myrgh. Yn hwir, kynth o gorow, y heveli bos korr a neb eghenn. “Gwra igor an daras euthyk!” a skrijas hag ev resys. “Powl! Gwra e lemmyn! ‘ma zombi euthyk!” Ya, gorow yn sertan – hag aswonnys dhymm yn sur. ‘Powl’, piwpynag o ev, o re lent. Daras an kleudhegell a remayna degeys fast ha’n gour y dhrehedhys – ha, yn eylennow, Davydh re goedhsa warnodho, meur y ormola. “A, kawgh,” a brederis. “Davydh re gachyas y liv.” Ha my a wodhya, drefenn an denkys re goedhsa dhe Veryl de, nyns esa travyth a allsen vy gul rag lettya prys-boes Davydh, rag lettya trajedi arall.