Thanks to the apocalypse and infestation that followed, rib bones, once friends, were cleaned of flesh to make my keyboard. We stretched skin over a steel barrel for a drum, dried tracheas comprised the winds and zombie hair, thick as cat gut, run the length of a femur, finished the string section. We totally rocked.



The above flash fiction was written for the 55 Word Challenge. This weeks prompt was after the zombie apocalypse, how will those still alive have fun.