The Civil Dead (The Black Heart)

The Civil Dead (The Black Heart)

A Story by Colton Warr

ATTENTION: This story contains some adult elements. Reader discretion is advised


The Civil Dead 

A Short Fiction Series by Colton Warr

"The Black Heart" 

Somewhere on the coast of South Carolina. April 1862.  

The sun slowly peeled away the previously darkened sky. It spilled a golden glow onto the Atlantic Ocean. A carefully placed breeze teased several palm trees that were sprinkled about the mixture of white sand and grass. They reflected the sun like a mirror as it continued to rise. The tide gently rolled onto the beach which was now covered in footprints. Some prints looked to be of an actual human and others seemed to be something just being dragged through the sand. A lone ship stood still as it sat beached somewhere just outside of Charleston. Not too far from this scene at the beach was a small farm house which sat in the center of several other small sheds and utility buildings. The house and its inhabitants were mostly still asleep. The person that laid awake was Addison Belle. She was a young woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes that occasionally gathered a hint of blue. She and her sister were considered the prettiest girls in their small South Carolinian town. Her sister, Becca Belle, was newly married and off somewhere in Georgia living with her husband and trying to start a family. Addison, however, was in her early twenties and still at home. She worked the farm with her father and cooked supper with her mother. She had a hobby of drawing. And most of the time this hobby took the place of sleeping, as it was on this fine southern Saturday morning. 

Addison drew a variety of things. On this morning, she was scribbling down a heart that was being torn apart by two different hands. One-half of the heart was black while the other was red. As she was filling in some color on one-half of the heart she heard a faint noise coming from downstairs. The noise sounded like a soft tap against a wooden surface. She shook it off and continued filling in the color. After a few seconds ticked by she heard the tap again, only this time it was much louder and happened more than once. She stopped shading and looked up. She didn't move a muscle as she listened intently. The tap was becoming more and more frequent. Addison decided that it was now loud enough where she wasn't just hearing things and she got up out of her bed and moved towards her bedroom door. She pressed her ear up against the cold white wood and determined it was coming from the lower level in the direction of the front of the house. She slowly opened the door. No sign of anything strange. She then walked out of her room and towards the edge of the top floors banister which overlooked the front door. She peered over and noticed that there was a figure at the front door. Her brain tried to determine who would be knocking on their door at this hour on a Saturday. Perhaps it was her sister and her husband on a surprise visit from Georgia as there appeared to now be more than one figure at the door. Lana, a house servant from the city moved to answer the front door, as she was up already preparing breakfast. She reached for the knob and slowly began to turn it. 

“Easy now, I’m openin’ it.” She said as the figure continued to knock. 

As she pulled the door open slightly the figure pushed through, knocking her to the ground and revealing a tall standing man that had flesh and bone exposed all over his body. He had black eyes and a crooked neck. The figure wasted no time looking around as it dove for Lana on the ground. Lana tried to crawl away but the figure dug its long, jagged fingernails into her leg; so deep that its nails struck an artery, sending blood spurting out and onto the floor as she let out a scream. Addison noticed that the other servants had come out from the kitchen to see what was happening. The other figures at the door had now entered the house as well and saw them. They ran towards them with a violent and reckless speed. The figures slammed into them, pinning some up against the walls of the farm house and taking mouths full of skin and blood from the servant's necks. Others; the figures chased down throughout the house, digging their nails into their backs and tearing out pieces of flesh from bone. Addison watched on in a state of horror and shock that paralyzed her to her core. The only thing that could break her out of this state was her mother. 

“Addy, get yourself down and over here.” 

Addison turned to her mother's voice who sat crouched behind her and up against the wall. Addison ran over. 

“Any sign of your father down there?” She asked. 

“No ma’am. What’s going on?” 

“Good. That means he’s still outside. We need to get to your fathers shotgun and pistol. Do you remember where he stashed them after yesterday's hunt?” 

Addison shook her head yes. 

“Go and get them. Now. Momma only has six shots.”

And with that Addison's mother rose up from her position and began firing on the intruders downstairs. Addison took off towards the back of the house, still on the second level. She entered her father's library which is often where he kept his guns. She quickly scanned the room as screams and shots continued to ring out throughout the house. There it was. She ran over and grabbed the shotgun which was leaning up against the wall in the corner of the room. She then ran over to her father's desk and grabbed the only shells she could find, which wasn't many. She sprinted back out towards her mother's position, which was now pushed further back. The figures had begun to come upstairs. 

“Give me that son of a b***h!” 

Addison tossed the double-barreled shotgun to her mother. Mrs. Belle then turned and pulled the trigger sending a discharged shell exploding through one of the figures chest, creating a gaping hole. The figure looked down at it and then back at the mother and screamed. 

“Jesus Christ.” Mother Belle faintly spoke. 

She fired the second shell at its legs sending it to the ground. Just when the figure seemed stopped for good, its head twisted itself into a vertical position and locked into a stare directed at the two women. And the cursed screamed again. 

“Go! Back to your father's library, now!” 

The two quickly moved into the library. As Mrs. Belle turned to slam the door and lock it one of the figures slammed its head into the door, keeping it propped open. Addison noticed this and quickly pressed her weight on the door along with her mothers to try and get the door to shut. The figure then tried to reach in the room with its hand. The two women then gave one final push as the door shut on the figures hand, detaching it from its body and sending it to the wooden floor. The two took a few steps back from the door as whatever was outside of it tried to get in. They were speechless for some time. 

“Load me up another go.” Mrs. Belle said as she passed the shotgun to her daughter. 

“What…those aren't people are they?” 

“I don’t know, Addy, but whatever they are they want to hurt us. Load!” 

Addison put two more shells in the double barrel shotgun as her mother searched the rest of the room for the pistol. 

“S**t. It has to be here somewhere.”

Addison set the shotgun down near the desk as she continued to be entranced by whatever was on the other side of that door. She then turned to the lone window in the room. 

“We have to get out of here. We have to jump, ma’!” 

Addison opened the window to a sight that stopped her heartbeat cold. She brought a hand to her mouth as she gasped. Her mother joined her at the window. 

“Oh no….oh…it can’t…why?”

The site that clenched Mrs. Belle’s throat was that of at least twenty of these figures out moving amongst their farmland, eating everything from horses to cows and even chickens. But those were all replaceable. The final thing they were devouring was not. The two women stared on, teary-eyed, as three figures fed on their leader of the family. Addison’s face flooded with tears as her fathers flooded with blood. The scene was interrupted by gunshots from outside of the library followed by several screams. The two women moved just a few paces from the door. Mrs. Belle armed with the shotgun and Addison with the pistol as it was resting near the window, loaded with six shots. The two aimed at the door as something struggled to get inside. 

“Breathe, baby. It’s just another hot summer day in the yard shootin’ at daddy’s beer bottles. Pull the trigger on the exhale.” 

Addison was violently shaking as she tried to keep her arms extended outward toward the door, ready to fire at whatever came through it. Whatever was on the outside continued to struggle as the doorknob jiggled up and down. Finally, the door popped open and in the heat of it all Addison squeezed off a shot, sending a bullet straight through the wooden door. Two seconds passed before the figure dropped to the ground. The two women cautiously moved closer. When Addison arrived at the body she realized she had just shot one of the house servants, Marcus, right in the neck. Blood began to pool beneath his now motionless head. The two women quickly realized that there were no longer any of the intruders up on the second floor. 

“Addy, stay here. I’m gonna go see if the way is clear to go out the front door.” 

“But what if-“ 

“No! No buts. We ain’t got time for them. Stay put, I’ll be right back.” 

With that, Mrs. Belle took off towards the stairs that led to the front of the house. Addison was left to examine the human being she had just accidentally killed. Her breathing was uncontrolled as she grabbed her throat. She then turned the desk and vomited all over the top of it. She was sick to her stomach. The smell of the entire house was unbearable. Her mother then returned. 

“Okay, Addy. The coast is clear to the stairs. There are a few of these things in the dining room, though. But I think God just used your trigger finger and gave us something to distract them with.” 

Kiawah Island, South Carolina. That Same Day. 1862.

A bustling bar for bruisers sat on the corner of a small South Carolinian town just outside of Charleston. A place where some of the rougher folk come out to get away from their day jobs for just a bit. Here we find a man by the name of Joseph Ferris. Mr. Ferris sat at a table away from the door but close to a window. At the table, he was taking part in a game of Texas Hold ‘Em. Gambling was one of Mr. Ferris’s many endeavors that he liked to partake in. A waitress wearing a long dress down to close to her ankles brought a tray of four glasses over to the table along with a bottle of whiskey. Her arrival stopped the game for a moment and demanded the attention of everyone playing it…or perhaps that was the whiskey? 

“Ahh yes. Gentlemen, I present to you one of the finest whiskeys in all of the Carolina’s. It has a  texture to it, a real smooth texture, that draws you in and keeps you coming right back for more. I fancy myself that same texture when talkin’ about my women ain’t that right, boys?” 

The men at the table laughed as Joe Ferris concluded his presentation of the whiskey. As the waitress began to pour the men a glass, the man that sat to Joe’s left spoke up.

“Now, how does a man come to find the funds to afford such a high-quality whiskey, I wonder?” 

Ferris smiled. 

“Well, I haven't quite paid for it yet. But I will do so with the money won from this here table.” 

His accent was as smooth as the whiskey tasted. The waitress continued to pour the men their glasses. The man to Mr.s Ferris’s right then spoke. 

“I, too, would like to inquire about your wealth, sir. I haven't failed to notice that shiny little pocket watch draped over this fine coat of yours. You must gamble a lot, no?” 

Joseph started to get suspicious at the barrage of questions. 

“Look, gentlemen, I worked very hard as a young man and I was rewarded for it. I like to spend my reward.” 

“What is your line of work?”

The quickness in which the question was asked had Joe beginning to wonder if he knew these two men. He leaned back in his chair and scooted it up to the table while placing one hand on his right thigh. 

“You are insulting me by asking me all of these questions and not even tasting the whiskey I ordered.” 

The two men looked at each other. One nodded his head at the other. 

“Perhaps, if we were to leave here…say…desert you…without tasting said whiskey….Well, maybe that would be enough to have us hunted down. What’d you say?” 

Joe Ferris took in a deep breath and glanced at both men. They seemed tense yet comfortable. As if they were in complete control of something. 

“Gentlemen.” He said with a laugh. 

“Don’t make me pull out the Ace of Spades, now. I can assure you, that will lead me straight to victory here.” 

The men grew tired of the dialogue. 

“Alright, cut the s**t!” The man to Joe’s left said as he slammed a sheet of parchment down onto the table. The waitress stopped pouring drinks and walked away from the table. 

“Take a look at this, Joseph Ferris, it’s a warrant for your arrest.” 

Joe glanced down at the paper. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s a warrant for your death you deserting s**t.” 

The two men smirked. The one to the right of Joe spoke.

“What’s all that money you “worked” for going to do for ya now, huh? Maybe you should write to your dead daddy to see if he will pass along more to you than he already has!” 

The two men laughed again. Joe continued to control his breathing. He looked at the man to his right and then to the men to his left. 

“By God, boys, you caught me. What’s your reward? To see a man die and get a few dollars to wipe your stupid asses with?” 

Joe paused as the two men went from calm to angry.

“Why see a man die when you can take his place?” 

Before the two men could even look at each other in confusion a gun went off and a bullet from underneath the poker table pierced through the wood and struck the man to Joe’s left directly between the eyes, sending him flying back in his chair and tumbling to the ground. Before the man on his right could digest the situation, Joe brought his pistol up from underneath the table and to the man’s temple. He pulled back the hammer and then stopped. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Joe said as he unbuttoned his jacket and pulled out his fancy pocket watch. 

“I’ll give you three seconds to taste my whiskey or I’ll spread your remains all over this damned bar. What’d you say? One.” 

The man quickly reached for the glass. 

“Will you still shoot me if I drink it?” 

Joe had a response prepared. 

“Would you still take me in if I lowered my weapon and surrendered to you right now?” 

The man lost all sense of hope in his body because he knew he was about to die. He brought the glass up to his lips and took down one of the finest whiskeys he had ever had. 

“Not bad for a man who deserted, huh?” 

And with that, Joseph Ferris pulled the trigger and spread the man's remains all over that damned bar. He then rose up, took all of the cash from the table and then looked up at the waitress. 

“Stay golden, sunshine.” He said with a wink. 

He then raised one of the wooden chairs from the table up in his arm and tossed it through the window near him, sending shards of wood and glass everywhere. He then jumped through the window and took off towards the outskirts of the small South Carolinian town. 

The Belle’s Farmhouse. Same Day. 1862.

“Come on, keep pushing. We’re almost to the stairs.” 

Mrs. Belle whispered orders as her and her daughter, Addison Belle, rolled the body of a dead house servant towards the front of the staircase. When they finally reached it, they both took in the scene. The bodies of everyone Addison had grown up with lay dead on the white wooden floors of their home. Pools and trails of blood spread from the front door to God knows where. The stench of the dead filled the air. 

“Okay, on three we are going to push this guy over the banister and into the main dining area. Once he lands, they will go to him and eat him. Once they are all there we can make a run for the front door, blasting any sorry a*s that tries to come at me and my baby. Got it?” 

“But, what if they don’t go to the body at all?” 

Mrs. Belle paused and then looked at her daughter. 

“They’ll go for it. Now help me get him up.” 

The two women struggled to get the carcass up onto the banister. Once he reached the top they scanned the area again. They could see several figures feeding on some of the house servants in the kitchen. 

“That pistol ready to make some noise?” Mrs. Belle asked her daughter.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

With that, the two shoved the body over the railing and sent it tumbling down near the main dining area. The body hit the ground with a loud thud that echoed throughout the house. The two women watched closely. The figures in the kitchen were the first to arrive as they examined the body. It was still a fresh kill and so they immediately began to eat it. A few let out a scream as they called in some others to join in the feast. Once the two women were satisfied, they took one last breath and broke for the front door, which was still wide open. They raced down the stairs without looking back. Once they hit the main floor they had to jump and dodge the occasional dead body that was on the ground. As they reached the front door something grabbed Addison’s leg sending her straight to the floor. As she turned and looked to see what it was and shoot it she froze. 


It was the house servant that was the first to die when she answered the front door. Addison couldn't shoot her because she didn't fully understand the situation in enough time. As their eyes locked just for a few seconds a loud gunshot was heard directly over Addison’s head. This caused her ears to ring as she glanced back up and noticed Lana’s head now gone. She looked up and saw her mother standing over her with the shotgun pointed at Lana. The two girls then looked to the mob of figures that were eating the dead body they threw over. The gunshot had alerted them to their presence. 

“Addy, we have to move now!”

Addison rose to her feet as her mother fired off another round at one of the figures as they were now racing towards them. As the two women turned to go out the front door something grabbed Mrs. Belle’s leg. This time sending her to the floor. Her shotgun was empty. She turned to swing the butt of the gun at the grabber only to notice it was Lana again and this time she was headless. So, Mrs. Belle thrust the butt of the gun at the arm of the headless Lana and detached it from her now dead body. Addison was standing in the doorway firing off rounds at the attackers. As Mrs. Belle rose back to her feet something came over her. She realized something else needed to be done. She shoved Addison out the door and closed it behind her. She then turned to her attackers. Addison immediately tried to open the front door and get her mom. Banging her hands on the door and screaming at her. 

“Mom, no!” 

“Addison, hide in the storm shelter. I love you, dear child of mine.” 

Mrs. Belle called out as she loaded one last shell into the shotgun. She then looked up and saw the figures directly on her. 

“Well, come on then you fuckers!” She said as she fired the final shell in the fray of the dead. 

Addison felt the new pressure on the door and heard the terrible sounds of limbs and skin being torn from where it originally was. She glanced down and noticed a pool of blood starting to flow underneath the door. She then quickly turned and sprinted for the storm shelter. She was not alone, however. Two figures were following her with haste. She sprinted faster. The more she ran the more he cried. She dug deep for whatever energy she had left. She reached the door and flung it open. She jumped down into the shelter, slamming the door behind her just as the cursed arrived at it. They scratched and clawed at the door but could not get it to open. Addison got as close to the ground as she could in the fetal position and put both hands up to her mouth to try and muffle the noise of her sobs. 

Hardin County, Tennessee. April 1862. 

It was a few hours after lunch at the Federal encampment at the Battle of Shiloh. The two-day battle was now over, ending in a Federal victory thanks to a huge group of reinforcements received on the previous evening of the battle. The Confederates retreated from the field and would likely lose their foothold in this particular area of the western theater of war. In between battles is where most household things were taken care of. That was no different in the case of Cole Niles. The young Lieutenant sat in a wooden chair in the commander's tent surrounded by officers who were much more decorated and older than he. 

“I’d like to start out by saying that this is bullshit.” 

The sentence startled everyone in the tent including the commander. But he didn't show it. 

“Duly noted, Lieutenant Niles. We’ll make sure we have that on our official records of this meeting. Now, to more serious affairs. Lieutenant Niles, you have been called here to answer for your misconduct and accept the consequences of your actions.” 

“The consequences of saving Federal troops. I never thought I would ever dread that sentence nor hear it from my commander's tongue.” 

“Speaking of tongues, you should still yours. if you hadn't noticed, this is your action that we are reviewing. Perhaps this isn't the best time to add powder to the fire.” 

The two men looked at each other with clear anger. 

“You are being charged with ignoring an order from a commanding officer and causing a disturbance and hindering the medical tent from doing its duties and completing its tasks.”

Cole gripped his chair tighter as he tried to swallow his pride.

“Your consequence is as follows: You will no longer be charged with the leadership of the Fourth Calvary nor any other men. You will be placed on sentry duty in the skirmish lines where you will remain until I tell you otherwise. Is that understood?”

Cole swallowed hard again as he attempted not to combust. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“I said, is that understood?” 

Cole locked eyes with his commander and smiled while clinching his teeth. 

“What a waste of talent.” 

The commander titled his head in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

Cole stood up. 

“So, tell me how a commander expects to maximize his armies potential in battle if he isn't maximizing his soldiers potential? The sentry line is no place for-“ 

The commander interrupted. 

“Yes, Lieutenant Niles, you are a skilled leader of men. But you lack respect for authority and you lack discipline. And until you choose to learn these traits I will not allow you to lead any men under my command. This hearing is adjourned. Good day to you all.” 

And with that, the commander rose from his chair and began packing his things. Cole just stared at him as the other officers in the room began to exit the tent. 

“Oh, and you can take your negro friend with you to the sentry. He does me no good in the cavalry with his injuries.”

And with that, the commander, too, exited the tent, leaving just Cole in its confines. He sat back down in his chair and stared at the table in front of him. Filled with maps which detailed everything from Tennessee to the entire nation. He took in a deep breath as he looked over the map of the country. All he wanted to do was serve. He was ambitious and hungry for glory. He only wanted to outdo his father. But this was a step in the wrong direction for Lieutenant Cole Niles. 

Just outside of the Belle’s Farmhouse. Sunset. 1862.

Joseph Ferris sat perched atop his black horse. He called him “Spade” and had ridden him during his military service and even before that. Which justified, in his mind, that he could ride off into the sunset with him as well. He had raised Spade at his family plantation in Georgia. So he felt that maybe the only person on the planet that could ever understand him was his horse. He gave Spade a pat on the neck as he took in his surroundings. He had been chased out of town after shooting those two men who had come to collect his soul for the Confederacy. His pursuers, as far as he knew, were still on his trail. He gave Spade a quick spur and began riding again. He was heading for the coast where maybe he could find a boat and take it to the Caribbean and get away from the war he left behind. 

“Yah!” He said as he spurred Spade again. 

He had noticed a ridge where he can take in his surroundings better. Spade trotted up the gravel and grass until they reached the top of the ridge, revealing the entire area to Mr. Ferris, including a ship. But not the kind of ship he was looking for. He wanted one that wasn't beached and could still sail. This one was beached resting just next to a farmhouse that was further inland that he could also see. The sight of three-masted ship beached here shocked Joseph Ferris. 

“Well, this should be a fine story, no?”

After murmuring that to himself or his horse he took off towards the ship. He was thinking that perhaps he could gather some supplies or even food from either the ship or the farmhouse. 

“Yah!” He yelled again. 

He decided the farmhouse would be the first stop. Spade took him there as fast as any other horse could. Joe Ferris had him trained awfully well. 

“Whoa, there. Easy now, Spade, easy.” 

Joe Ferris pulled up on the reigns of his horse as he arrived just outside the farmhouse. He could already notice something was out of place. He lightly spurred Spade and the horse slowly walked toward the house. As he rode through the property he noticed that everything was dead. There were corpses of cows and horses and even chickens. No humans. Dead or alive for that matter. He rode up to the front door and got down from his horse. He slowly walked up to the door, left hand on his pistol, ready to draw. He lightly pushed the front door open to reveal an empty house. There wasn't a single soul in sight. He walked in but only a few steps. The house reeked of a terrible stench. A combination of blood, dead animals and heat. He noticed that there were little bits and pieces of skin and bone of the floor. 

“What in the?” 

He also noticed footprints leading out of the front door from where he just came. He followed them. They weren’t very big but weren't a child’s either. They led to the houses storm shelter which was wide open. Joe Ferris drew his weapon. He slowly walked up to the opened door. He could hear a faint sound which almost sounded like a baby trying to talk. As he reached the door he peered over the side of it and looked down. There it was. A small child playing with its feet right before his eyes. It was alone, or so Joe thought. He then lifted his gaze to see if anyone else was around…and he saw someone. He saw what appeared to be a young women out by the beached ship. It seems as though she had beat him to the punch and was extracting the ship of all of its supplies. It didn't look like she had seen Joe yet and he had a plan. 

Addison Belle was taking a quick inventory of what she had gathered from the bloodied but empty ship. She was able to find food, water, rum and even some light reading material to try and keep her mind occupied. Between books and the baby she found on board this ship, she felt satisfied for the moment that she could stay focused on something other than what had happened at her home. She gathered up her new supplies and headed back for the storm shelter. On the way, she started singing one of her favorite southern church hymns. Addison Belle had a beautiful voice, almost as beautiful as her. As she got closer to the storm shelter and, in turn, her house she noticed a disturbance. There was a black horse tied up to the house's front porch. Her slow walked turned into a quick march as she became increasingly concerned with the babies safety. She noticed that the storm shelters doors were still open. Maybe she could still catch the culprit. As she arrived at the shelter she dropped the bags of supplies and quickly looked down into the hole in the ground. In it was Joseph Ferris holding the baby as it slept in his arms. Addison quickly realized he knew she was there as he had his pistol pointed at her. 

“Step on in here, darling.” 

Addison had no other option but to comply. So she did. 

“Nice and easy now, we don’t want to wake the child.” 

She slowly stepped down into the shelter. 

“That’s it. Now take a seat right over there so I can see you.” 

Addison complied and took a seat on the opposite end of the small shelter. Joe Ferris raised his gun even further and pulled back the hammer while it was still pointed at Addison. He looked into her eyes for the first time and spoke.

“Now….what in the Southern Hell happened here?”        

© 2016 Colton Warr

Author's Note

Colton Warr
The second installment to my "The Civil Dead" series. Check it out and leave me with your thoughts! Thank you all so much for continuing to read these. The third one will be out a week after this! Peace and success vibes to you all!

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Very well done i Quite enjoyed this. 10/10. I would wish to see more works of the same caliber. Any piece of literature that you would like me to overlook would be a honor for me to do so

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Thank you so much, my friend! I appreciate your kind and encouraging words! I'm glad you enjoyed thi.. read more
Too scary for me to read >_

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Haha that's okay, though! You have to keep reading to find out if our hero's will prevail over the d.. read more
Some errors in writing but you held some interest in the story. Valentine

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Thank you very much for your thoughts! I have just posted the next one and have really tried to crac.. read more
Critique: ( Her and her sister) She - you used the object pronoun Her in a subjective position.
(She stopped shading) stopped shaking
(the walls of the farm house) farmhouse
(and blood from the servants) servant's - the noun servants should be in the possessive form.
(Addison turned to her mothers) mother's - the noun mothers should be in the possessive form
(her mother's voice whom sat) who - The object pronoun whom is used as a direct object of a preposition.
(he stashed them after yesterdays hunt) yesterday's - wrong context
(She entered her fathers library) father's - the noun fathers should be in the possessive form
(She then ran over to her fathers desk) father's
(grabbed the only shells for it she could find) shells she could find - Duplicate pronouns
(towards her mothers position) mother's
(towards her mothers position) begun - the verb began should be in the past participle form
(Back to your fathers) father's
(The two took a fews steps) few
(I present to you one of the finest whiskey’s) whiskeys - the noun whiskey's should be in the plural form rather than the possessive form
(more to you then he already has) than - wrong context
(pulled the trigger and spread the mans) man's
(So, Mrs. Belle thrusted) thrust
(surrounded by officers whom) who
(We’ll make sure we have that on our official records) have that in our - on is not the right preposition to use in this context
(hear it from my commanders tongue) commander's
(even food from either the the ship) either the ship
(There was a black horse tied up to the houses) house's
You can use Grammarly app for free, it will help you edit your work

Review: You weave the words of the story so well that it fits together leaving no gaps or detail undone leaving your reads only the pleasure of the story. You story line is engaging and the plot is a time tested one, it allows room for subplots the add layers to the story without making it confusing or misleading. You character's are well developed so your readers should relate to them and quickly insert themselves into the story. I like how you ended it, you have your readers hooked and eager to read more. Well done, I give it five out of five Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Alright, my friend, I have finally downloaded this Grammarly app you have been talking about! I put .. read more

4 Years Ago

You will glad you did :~)
Well I still need to form a thought on it. Quite interesting. Waiting for more, and thanks for sharing man :)

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Thank you for leaving your thoughts, my friend! I just posted the next one so perhaps it will leave .. read more
guy drori

4 Years Ago

Any Time! I'm looking forward to reading more of your work
read like a weekly reader fromreaders digest,informative and fun to read

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Thank you very much, kind sir! I appreciate your continued support! I'm glad you enjoy these! Thank .. read more
Usually I don't give zombie stories a look because I feel they're a bit overplayed. However, I trust you as a writer and I failed to give the tags a look and the zombie theme was a pleasant surprise. The pacing is perfect. Quick but still dense. I love the attention to gore detail. Definitely following this one!

Posted 4 Years Ago

Colton Warr

4 Years Ago

Thank you very much!! I agree with you. The zombie thing is a bit overplayed. I think you'll find th.. read more

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7 Reviews
Added on August 25, 2016
Last Updated on October 24, 2016
Tags: Zombies, Story, Stories, Love, Hate, War, Friendship, Short Story


Colton Warr
Colton Warr

Richmond, VA

Rolling Stone... Twitter: @colton_warr Instagram: colton_warr Facebook: Colton Warr more..


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