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eBook Category: Horror/Dark Fantasy
eBook Description: When a zombie becomes a sideshow attraction, it's difficult to tell on which side of the bars the freaks are standing.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: The Book of All Flesh, 2001
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2003

20 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [52 KB], eReader (PDB) [24 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [10 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [10 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [47 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [80 KB], hiebook (KML) [55 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [35 KB], iSilo (PDB) [8 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [11 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [38 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [17 KB]
Words: 3174
Reading time: 9-12 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Nicholson's writing is fresh and unique, simple yet thought-provoking, intoxicating and riveting."--Outline Magazine

If only they had taken my tongue.

With no tongue, I would not taste this world. The air in the tent is buttered by the mist from popcorn. Cigarette smoke drifts from outside, sweet with candy apples and the liquor that the young men have been drinking. The drunken ones laugh the hardest, but their laughter always turns cruel.

If they only knew how much I love them. All of them, the small boys whose mothers pull them by the collar away from the cage, the plump women whose hair reflects the torchlight, the men all trying to act as if they are not surprised to see a dead man staring at them with hunger dripping from his mouth.

"Come and see the freak," says the man who cages me, his hands full of dollar bills.

Freak. He means me. I love him.

More people press forward, bulging like sausages against the confines of their skin. The salt from their sweat burns my eyes. I wish I could not see.

But I see more clearly now, dead, than I ever did while breathing. I know this is wrong, that my heart should beat like a trapped bird, that my veins should throb in my temples, that blood should sluice through my limbs. Or else, my eyes should go forever dark, the pounding stilled.