Broken Angel
A Zombie Love Story
By
Joely Sue Burkhart
PUBLISHED BY:
Joely Sue Burkhart
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 Joely Sue Burkhart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form
without the express, written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living
or dead, is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
BROKEN ANGEL
A Zombie Love Story
Table of Contents
Dedication
Broken Angel
Excerpt of The Zombie Billionaire’s Virgin
Witch
Other Books by Joely Sue Burkhart
Dedication
For my Beloved Sister
I dreamed of the broken doll again.
Standing on a bridge curtained with willows
and blooming vines, I saw her in the crystal water flowing beneath
the stone arch. At first, she looked perfect: lovely porcelain
face, large sparkling eyes, and flowing silken ribbons of gold
framing her angelic features. Beautiful as she rose from the
gurgling stream, she floated up to the bridge like dandelion fluff.
She smiled with that Cupid’s bow mouth, but when she walked toward
me, her gait was stiff and jerky like a mindless robot.
Dread rolled through me, a drowning darkness
of cold waters. I couldn’t breathe. My head pounded and my heart
struggled to beat. Ice encased my hands and feet, inching up my
arms and legs. I wanted to run before she came any closer, but I
was frozen immobile.
Dead leaves rained down. Brittle flowers
crumpled to dust. Ice covered me. My face was stiff and cold, my
eyes wide open and staring. Just like that horrible, perfect doll
marching toward me with grim joviality.
There was something horrible about her face,
something so terrifying that I couldn’t remember. I didn’t want to
remember. I didn’t want to look.
Peaches and cream complexion, once smooth
and symmetrical, now drooped. The eye on the right sat lower on her
face, her mouth tugging down into a grimace. A dark slash cut
across her forehead, another down her cheek. She stumbled forward,
clutching a heavy gold watch, links of chain woven between her
wooden fingers.
I stared, frozen like a dumb animal, as that
face broke open. Porcelain cracked away to reveal…
My face.
Screaming, I jerked awake. I clawed at the
blankets, flailing toward the edge of our king-sized bed.
My husband reached for me, mumbling, “What’s
wrong?”
Relieved, I sank back onto the pillows and
rolled into his embrace. Even woken from sleep, his voice echoed
with command. He was a man used to leadership, wealthy enough to
purchase the best doctors and provide exclusive, expensive care for
me. He loved me. I remembered that much.
A wave of nausea flooded my stomach, burning
up my throat. I really didn’t want to see any more doctors. Perhaps
one…the one who…
My head hurt. Yes, he’d taken care of my
head. After the accident. The bridge. Pain exploded. Why couldn’t I
remember his face? His name? He saved me. Images fluttered through
my mind like loose papers, blowing leaves, gone in an instant.
Pillowing my face on Robert’s chest, I tried
to calm my thoughts. “I was dreaming. Oh, it was horrible. That
doll, her broken face…”
Shuddering, I couldn’t tell him the worst of
the nightmare. She was me. I was her. What does that
mean?
“That same old nightmare again? Go back to
sleep, dear.”
His dismissive attitude stung. Rather, it
would have hurt if I could feel anything. I was suddenly aware that
I was fully awake, yet I was still numb to my surroundings. His
bare chest was beneath my cheek, but I felt no heat from him. I
smelled nothing from his skin. Hadn’t he always smelled of cologne,
even at night? His chest hairs should tickle, yet I felt nothing
but the rise and fall of his chest. Panic gnawed in the
A Zombie Love Story
By
Joely Sue Burkhart
PUBLISHED BY:
Joely Sue Burkhart
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 Joely Sue Burkhart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form
without the express, written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living
or dead, is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
BROKEN ANGEL
A Zombie Love Story
Table of Contents
Dedication
Broken Angel
Excerpt of The Zombie Billionaire’s Virgin
Witch
Other Books by Joely Sue Burkhart
Dedication
For my Beloved Sister
I dreamed of the broken doll again.
Standing on a bridge curtained with willows
and blooming vines, I saw her in the crystal water flowing beneath
the stone arch. At first, she looked perfect: lovely porcelain
face, large sparkling eyes, and flowing silken ribbons of gold
framing her angelic features. Beautiful as she rose from the
gurgling stream, she floated up to the bridge like dandelion fluff.
She smiled with that Cupid’s bow mouth, but when she walked toward
me, her gait was stiff and jerky like a mindless robot.
Dread rolled through me, a drowning darkness
of cold waters. I couldn’t breathe. My head pounded and my heart
struggled to beat. Ice encased my hands and feet, inching up my
arms and legs. I wanted to run before she came any closer, but I
was frozen immobile.
Dead leaves rained down. Brittle flowers
crumpled to dust. Ice covered me. My face was stiff and cold, my
eyes wide open and staring. Just like that horrible, perfect doll
marching toward me with grim joviality.
There was something horrible about her face,
something so terrifying that I couldn’t remember. I didn’t want to
remember. I didn’t want to look.
Peaches and cream complexion, once smooth
and symmetrical, now drooped. The eye on the right sat lower on her
face, her mouth tugging down into a grimace. A dark slash cut
across her forehead, another down her cheek. She stumbled forward,
clutching a heavy gold watch, links of chain woven between her
wooden fingers.
I stared, frozen like a dumb animal, as that
face broke open. Porcelain cracked away to reveal…
My face.
Screaming, I jerked awake. I clawed at the
blankets, flailing toward the edge of our king-sized bed.
My husband reached for me, mumbling, “What’s
wrong?”
Relieved, I sank back onto the pillows and
rolled into his embrace. Even woken from sleep, his voice echoed
with command. He was a man used to leadership, wealthy enough to
purchase the best doctors and provide exclusive, expensive care for
me. He loved me. I remembered that much.
A wave of nausea flooded my stomach, burning
up my throat. I really didn’t want to see any more doctors. Perhaps
one…the one who…
My head hurt. Yes, he’d taken care of my
head. After the accident. The bridge. Pain exploded. Why couldn’t I
remember his face? His name? He saved me. Images fluttered through
my mind like loose papers, blowing leaves, gone in an instant.
Pillowing my face on Robert’s chest, I tried
to calm my thoughts. “I was dreaming. Oh, it was horrible. That
doll, her broken face…”
Shuddering, I couldn’t tell him the worst of
the nightmare. She was me. I was her. What does that
mean?
“That same old nightmare again? Go back to
sleep, dear.”
His dismissive attitude stung. Rather, it
would have hurt if I could feel anything. I was suddenly aware that
I was fully awake, yet I was still numb to my surroundings. His
bare chest was beneath my cheek, but I felt no heat from him. I
smelled nothing from his skin. Hadn’t he always smelled of cologne,
even at night? His chest hairs should tickle, yet I felt nothing
but the rise and fall of his chest. Panic gnawed in the
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