I don’t mean to make this overly dramatic or anything… but I think I am being stalked by zombies.
It all started on Saturday afternoon. I was heading to the mall for a free Chanel makeup consultation (priorities, people) when I noticed a few passengers on the subway who looked a bit… off. At first I attributed their pallor and trance-like appearances to general public transit-related malaise (been there); however my tune quickly changed when I noticed their ripped and soiled clothing, open wounds and blood dripping from every orifice.
These weren’t just fellow disillusioned passengers- these, my friends, were The Undead.
No sooner had I realized who (or what) I was dealing with than the doors opened, unleashing a second wave of soulless corpses into my cramped subway car. Each was bloody, disgusting, and slightly more terrifying than the last. There was a man with his entire chest blown open; another with a bolt protruding from his neck, like a modern-day Frankenstein… only wearing with an iPod. There was even a female zombie holding an (un) dead baby.
Fearful, I hugged my pole closer and averted my gaze. In order to project the air that I could actually afford designer makeup, I had dressed up for the occasion. The last thing I needed was some flesh-eater dripping fake blood onto my designer knock-off booties.
When the subway reached my station, I hurried out of the car only to realize I was being followed by a zombie army. Thinking enough was enough, I approached a young, non-threatening looking (minimally bloody) zombie and asked her where they were going.
“Uh, the Zombie Walk?” she responded, “At Nathan Phillips Square?”
The what in the where now?
A quick Google search informed me that the “Zombie Walk” is an annual event where hundreds dress up as Zombies, march the streets of Toronto and generally scare the beejesus out of fraidy-cats like me.
I found this to be highly disturbing, but also fascinating. I’ve never really understood the allure of zombies- mostly because the sight of blood makes me nauseous. Also, I’m scared of my own shadow. (I haven’t been able to watch a scary movie since I saw Pet Cemetery in grade 3 and couldn’t use the bathroom with the door shut for a year.) But despite my cowardice, there seem to be a lot of people who just can’t get enough of the stuff: Zombie movies, zombie survival camps, zombie training books. To each their own I guess?
Anyway, I tried to forget the whole traumatizing experience and instead just focus on getting my face on (Which resulted in being traumatized instead, by the amount of money I spent on products. WHY am I such a sucker). Despite my best efforts, however, I still ended up having highly detailed nightmares about zombie babies and zombie women with perfect smokey eyes and bold lips.
Needing to clear my head of all Zombie and makeup-related terror, I decided to head out for a run on Sunday morning. It was a beautiful autumn day, and everything was going swimmingly, until I saw this sign:
DUN DUN DUN
Just then, I heard a commotion behind me, and turned to see a gaggle of bloody, tattered corpses turning the corner and heading in my general direction.
I was like:
The expression “run for your life” took on a whole new meaning for me that day. With Zombies hot on my trail, I took off like a bat out of hell, turning my iPod on full blast and not looking back. Every once in a while I’d get a waft of fake blood, and a zombie would pass me and make threatening gestures in my direction- no doubt enjoying the sight of fresh meat.
Eventually, however, I was able to lose them when the race path turned off into a densely wooded area. (CREEPY).
The upshot? I ended up clocking my fastest (unofficial) 5k time ever. And I must admit that the whole thing was a little exhilarating. Maybe I should recruit a couple of zombies to follow me in my 10K race this weekend?