I woke up to a dog with a tiny bloody gash on her head. She apparently wanted me to look at it, but not to do anything about it. And so that’s what I did. I had nightmares all night long, which I directly attribute to writing the zombiefication portion of my sexy zombie story, which now does seem to have a zombie in it.
So, I wrote that part. It was pretty straight-forward. Guy comes down creepy basement stairs he’s not smart enough to be afraid of, guy gets axe in sternum. Crunch. And then, after guy is on the ground, the axe is twisted to crack open said sternum and guy’s death is extracted so that he cannot actually lay down and die until he fulfills his murderer’s wishes, which are, obviously, for more murders, one of which I plan to try to describe in my efforts to experiment with writing actual horror fiction as opposed to unsettling, creepy fiction.
But I had this idea that it would be appropriate for dude’s murderer to grab a hold of each side of the broken sternum and pull it open in a blood eagle and set him loose to kill that way. And then I thought, well, I don’t know. It seems like it would be hard to run around murdering people with your chest all splayed open and your lungs falling on the floor. You slip in a pile of lung juice and your victim is out a bathroom window in the time it takes you to right yourself.
But then I looked up blood eagle on the internet and discovered a.) that now most folks don’t even believe that was a thing that actually happened, just a story that spread about Vikings to illustrate how fucking not to be trifled with they were; and b.) they (supposedly) didn’t go in from the front. They held their victims down, broke the ribs away from the spinal column, and splayed those out, like wings. Then they ripped the lungs out and offered up the soon-to-be dead man to Odin.
I guess they had all fucking day? And where did the floating ribs go? Souvenirs? Dog treats? I mean, really. You have a guy, usually a king, that you’re supposed to be able to hold down long enough to sever each rib away from the spinal column on both sides and break those ribs outwards to form bloody wing looking things and get his lungs out and maybe salt everything to really cause him pain all before he died?
I’m not buying it.
Might they have desecrated bodies in this manner? Oh, sure. I’m willing to buy that. But if you want to get in a person’s chest and rip out their lungs while they’re still alive and aware enough to be horrified by it? I still think your best chance is a swift blow to the sternum with an axe.
Anyway, per the Butcher’s recommendation, I killed off the guy who needed to be killed off. His head came rolling down the basement stairs. I was sad to see him go. The characters who saw his head said “Shit” and “Santa, no!”