A story I've been working on...

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The writhing mass of bone and flesh moved slowly towards the British soldier, whose musket stood at the ready in his arms. He moved back a few paces as the creature continued to inch its way forward, oblivious to everything save him.
It wore the tattered remains of what he thought was a similar uniform to his, only soaked in mud and water. Thick patches of dried blood caked the uniform's collar and sleeves.
He masterfully followed all of the motions expected of a regular like him as he prepared to send the thing back to wherever it had come from. He had raised the musket high over his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. He knew that if he missed it would be some time before he could fire again, and so he stood calmly in place waiting for the opportune moment to fire.
His finger squeezed the trigger. The shot went wild, piercing the creature directly in the belly. “My God!” Screamed the soldier at the top of his lungs as the creature continued to move towards him at a seemingly faster pace then before, unfazed. In a last ditch effort to send the creature back to hell, the place he had now determined that it had come from, he charged and proceeded to ram his bayonet deep into it's bloated mass.

I know that it is short, but what do you think? It is set in the 1700's in the American colonies during a zombie outbreak.

EDIT: fixed an error with referring to musket as a rifle. Fixed some grammar issues I hadn't noticed until now.

I love it.

Great style, and I also like the suspense.

I want to know what happens next. The idea of zombies in the 1700's is very interesting!

Zombies, vampires, werewolves, throw them all in...

Article for the OP about the trend of Zombies and literature:

nytimes.com

Show don't tell. Write in the first person? I think is what I mean, but well written!

Thanks for the feedback, everyone. I will post more.

They also did Jane Austen and Zombies, which is only slightly later, so why not? Good work so far.

Zombies vs people of the 1700's. Awesome

You've got your wish. Although chapter one is still in the works, It shall be done soon. What do you all think?

Prologue

The writhing mass of bone and flesh moved slowly towards the British soldier, whose musket stood at the ready in his arms. He moved back a few paces as the creature continued to inch its way forward, oblivious to everything save him.
It wore the tattered remains of what he thought was a similar uniform to his, only soaked in mud and water. Thick patches of dried blood caked the uniform's collar and sleeves.
He masterfully followed all of the motions expected of a regular like him as he prepared to send the thing back to wherever it had come from. He had raised the musket high over his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. He knew that if he missed it would be some time before he could fire again, and so he stood calmly in place waiting for the opportune moment to fire.
His finger squeezed the trigger. The shot went wild, piercing the creature directly in the belly. “My God!” Screamed the soldier at the top of his lungs as the creature continued to move towards him at a seemingly faster pace then before, unfazed. In a last ditch effort to send the creature back to hell, the place he had now determined that it had come from, he charged and proceeded to ram his bayonet deep into it's bloated mass.


Chapter One

Major General William Howe was getting old. He ran a hand through his graying, jet black hair as he finished penning a letter to his majesty King George III. He was certain the King would want to know more about the situation on the ground, and of whether or not he and his men had purged the disease from the land once and for all.
There came a knock at the door. “Come in.” He said, raising his voice just enough as to not come off as an angry old commander, an image he was trying to forgo. In stepped a young ensign, whom Howe reckoned could be no older then nineteen or twenty. Poor boy.
“Sir, Those things have attacked again. Quick, ready your pistol, for they are trying to smash through the main gate this time.” Howe's eyes raised wide as a sense of fear tugged at his very soul. If those abominations broke through their defenses, then all would be lost, and then...
“Sir?” Howe quickly grabbed for his pistol that sat on his desk, from which he rose tall and commanding over that of the boy soldier, as if to show no fear.
“Come.” He said in a firm manner. “Let's send those things back to hell.” The two soldiers, one a young boy, the other a grizzled commander, both walked out of the officer's quarters towards the main gate.
They ran towards the main gate with great haste, finally arriving across the parade grounds before running up the ramp towards the battlements. By the time they had arrived, both soldiers were out of breath and gasping for air. “Men,” Shouted Howe as best he could while addressing the troops immediately in front of him, “How many have you killed?” One of the soldiers who was in the process of removing his ramrod from his musket turned to him and spoke up over the din of musket fire.
“We haven't killed a single bloody one, sir. They just won't perish.” Below, Howe spied the undead invaders, who to him it appeared that they were literally trying to climb the wall, to no avail.
“Should we keep shooting, we'd sooner run out of ammunition then kill one. Try different parts of the body, anything to vanquish our foes.” Ordered Howe in an affirmative tone of voice. The soldier nodded his head yes without saying a word before turning back around towards the invaders.
“You,” Howe pointed swiftly towards the young soldier he was accompanying, “Kill some of them for me, will you? Oh, and maybe you could try aiming for the head. It could work.” The scared boy soldier also nodded his head in obedience, departing Howe to join his comrades-in-arms at the battlements.
Howe sighed deeply, holstering his pistol. It would only be a matter of time before it all fell apart.

I had no idea you updated, sweet!

This chapter was not bad, I liked it. You said it was still in the works, that's cool. I'd like to add that this one could have had a bit more imagery. How was the weather, was it dark, rainy, sunny? Were the soldiers sweating in their uniforms that it lingered with the blood from the walking dead?

And just HOW did all this start? You left it suspenseful that I'm curious as to when the soldiers figured this out and how big of an issue it is =D