Win a Copy of ZOMBIE TAG!


This is the fabulous debut novel by Hannah Moskowitz, and you have a chance to win it!

Here's what you've have to do.

Write a story, one hundred words or fewer, using these words:


Bonus Points if you use the phrase "Eat brains!"

Contest open internationally. It starts NOW, and runs through midnight Thursday December 8th. Post your entry in the comments section.

Enter as many times as you want.

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Josin L. McQuein said...

I'd consider entering, simply for the chance to use:

"Eat brains, Zombie-lover!"

as an opening taunt. :-P

ClothDragon said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
ClothDragon said...

"Why does the zombie eat brains?" Brother John intoned in a voice as dry as a tenth-year Intro to Calculus professor. The spatula he waved clashed with his Oxford image. Grease splattered the blackboard and dribbled through words in green chalk. Love, death, vase, and window.

The students moaned and he jabbed the pinkish gray lump cooking over the bunsen burner, but their eyes were only for him. She still twitched even with her brain in the pan, but she couldn’t stand. They approached with chewed faces, and intact heads, and he wondered when he’d gone insane.

Arwen said...

(This was more fun than I probably should have had at work.)
A zombie had growled outside the bunker for hours, but all was quiet. Peeking out the eyeslot, I saw a gleaming Harley, "DeathLove" airbrushed in silver on the red gas tank. Its burly rider strode toward me, braided beard twitching as he spat. Where did my brother get tobacco, I wondered as he spat again.
“Lemme in,” he grunted.
“Eat brains!” I hissed. “You’ve been gone ages! Did you get what I wanted, or just dang tobacco?”
“I got your dang spatula,” he said, tapping the door with it. “Open up.”
“OK, then.” I let him in. “Flapjacks for two?”

Rachel Schieffelbein said...

We could see the zombies, their stiff-legged death walk bringing them closer, their mouths twitching with a desire to eat brains. And all my brother and I had to defend ourselves with was a butter knife and a spatula.

"I love you, Emily."

Something in how he said it scared me more than the zombies.

"Stay low until you get out of the house, then run as fast as you can."

"What about you?"

"Stay safe, Emily."

He ran out in front of the zombies. They turned away from me and went after him.

I never saw him again.

Rachel Schieffelbein said...

My brother is like a zombie in the morning. He looked like death as he stumbled into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I teased.

"Eat brains, Alex."

"Come on now, be nice. I made pancakes. You love pancakes."

"Why are you in such a good mood?"

"Because this is my last breakfast in this house. Tomorrow I will be eating breakfast in my dorm."

"Great, then you can annoy the crap out of some one else."

I threw the spatula at him.

"Yep," I smiled and went upstairs to finish packing. It was going to be a great day.

Arwen said...

Blargh, Death and Love really do count as two separate words? I thought it was trickery!

Rachel Schieffelbein said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rachel Schieffelbein said...

You may be right! But I'm hoping it's two seperate words. :)

Unknown said...


I throw my keys on the table and look at the parrot. “What?”

“DeathLove.” He squawks again.

I groan. Bad enough Dave’s been my own personal apartment zombie since Lucy dumped him for that taxidermist, but now he’s rubbing off on Zigfried.

Wait. What is that? Something’s burning. No…melting. The plastic spatula oozes over the plugged-in hot plate. An unidentifiable pink substance coats the counter.

There’s a distinct possibility that I’m going to kill him. Brother or not.

“Dave!” I yell.

Ziggy pipes back in. “Eat brains!”

Not the two words I was planning on using. But they’d do.

i'm erin. said...

K, I think it's just fun stuff to read other entries! I'm horrid, so I'm not going to try. But it's a great contest.

Marsha Sigman said...

“You don’t love him, dear.” The spatula trembled in her hand.

“Yes I do, Mom.”

“Deathlove is just a passing fad caused by the Zombie Freedom Act. You’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, the first time she sees him eat brains!” My brother snorted.

“It doesn’t bother me to see you do it.”

“Stop arguing.” Mom set our plates down but the eggs didn’t seem nearly as appetizing with my brother slurping up oozing brain matter six inches away. A really fresh batch too.

Then it hit me. I hadn’t seen my father for three days.

Clare Tisdale said...

DeathLove pounded out a heavy-metal anthem on the radio as I cooked breakfast and hummed along. I heard a heavy tread on the stairs and a foul stench wafted into my nostrils. Thinking it was my brother, I called out, “Good morning, fart-breath!” The fetid odor filled the kitchen and I spun around. I screamed as a zombie, wrapped in bloody cheesecloth, lumbered toward me with arms outstretched. Scraping up a mass of fried offal with my spatula, I shoved it into the creature’s gaping mouth. “Eat Brains!” I yelled. The zombie turned green and fled.

TVButler said...

“You’re such a zombie when you’re messed up,” she said, making him breakfast the morning after one of his all-night bingers.

He closed his eyes and extended his hands, rocking back and forth. “Mrghhh…”

“I’m not joking,” she snapped, holding up the skillet, where an egg sat, sunny-side up. “This is what’s left of your brain. And this”—she smashed the yolk with a spatula--“Is your brain on booze.”

“Oh brother.” He peeked one eye open. “You’re making me eat brains!”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,” she sighed. “Just do me a favor--don’t drink yourself to death, love.”

Abrielle Sarah Fuerst said...
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Abrielle Sarah Fuerst said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Abrielle Sarah Fuerst said...

Raven, harbinger of death, screeched into the night.
“Love me," the zombie whispered beneath the shadow of its wings. “Love me.” Men would eat brains to avoid the sadness of her smile, carve out their own hearts to dispel the loneliness. Somehow her bloodless lips were red; death had made this creature more beautiful than most things living.
The fool that was my brother slid outside to meet her, knife more like a spatula than any lethal blade.
“Love me.”

That was three years ago. Now at night I listen to aged cries of my brother, begging to be loved.

Abrielle Sarah Fuerst said...

Cries of “Begone, rancid zombie!” shrieked into the night. Ugh, another group of them! Another group of hapless mortals blundering through the woods in an attempt to murder me. I’d sooner eat brains that allow myself to die…and face my brother after death.
Someone threw a knife, harmless as a spatula for it gouged flesh that would never bleed. Life blinds the eyes of men, it seems. Don’t they realize that betrayal wounds the lonely dead as much as the living?
No, I will never die. It is too much that I love him even after he betrayed me.

brandip73 said...

As the Zombie slithered across the kitchen floor on its legless torso, I looked long and hard into the eyes of my husband, Rob. I rubbed my belly.

My brother Tim screamed, “Protect the baby.” He threw me a spatula.

Rob did a push up and gurgled, “Me eat brains.”

The bite on my leg stung as Rob’s teeth ripped through my flesh. I knew it was too late so I sat on the floor next to him in eternal DeathLove.

daniel john10 said...

The other morning, while making pancakes, I found myself staring at the tip of the spatula for no apparent reason. I was startled out of my thoughts by a strange voice saying, "Must eat brains," over and over. I thought it was my brother fooling around, but when I looked in the living room there was a zombie on my couch. He was watching my new DVD "DeathLove" and spilling popcorn on the floor. At first I thought this was strange...When I awoke from this strange dream I smiled; Until I heard the TV playing loudly and smelled fresh popcorn...

Alex said...
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DavidSimon4449 said...

Welcome to the Kill Grill, have a seat. Relax, your secret’s safe with me. You can drape yourself in entrails and fool the deadheads, but I can clock a live one, being one myself. Turns out, zombies love their meat cooked, so they let us live, long as we serve up our fellow man. It’s a living. What’s that? Us are me and the big fella back there with the spatula, my cook, Brother Deathlove. Got “death” and “love” tattooed on his knuckles. Says “hate” lacks commitment. Here’s your grub, better act like ya like it. Wanna live? Eat brains!

GSMarlene said...

I emerged from dreamland. Banging cabinet doors reminded me that Aunt Marge expected me to waste a precious Saturday showing her the sights of Cleveland. Cleveland!

I lurched like a zombie to the bathroom and tried to prepare myself for the impending doom.

Oh, thank God! My brother sat across the table from Aunt Marge and her “face.” Her makeup must have been applied with a spatula.

If I could pawn playing tour-guide off on Bill . . .

“Eat brains!” hissed Bill. “No death-or-love threat or any amount of money will talk me into spending another hour with her.”

Chris Patterson said...


In an extraordinary turn of events, the Zombie War came to an abrupt end with the arrival of big-brained aliens from Alpha Centauri. In an ingenious move named Operation DeathLove, General Grimm convinced the Zombies to attack the aliens. Once they were all dead, he helped the Zombies program the strange spatula shaped space ships to return to Alpha Centauri where it is expected they will find many more big-brained aliens.

Let’s all give our Zombie brothers and sisters a hearty shout out of “Eat Brains!” as they begin their long, and hopefully one-way, journey across the galaxy.

Rachael Harrie said...

LOL, great contest :D


Zombie DeathLove shoved the spatula at his younger brother. “Eat brains!” he said, his voice a low whine. “That’s all they ever want me to do. Do they listen when I tell them I’m allergic to manflesh? No! Deadbeats. They just pass me the stupid spatula and expect me to chow down.”

Zombie KillMaim ripped his gaze from the leg they’d set down before him. Steaming, fresh, tendons still jittering. His nostrils flared. “What will you do?”

DeathLove slid his hand beneath his rags and touched the crumpled goblet. “I’m turning humatarian. I’m becoming a vampire. That will show them.”

Crunchylitemama said...

They were gaining ground as I frantically dashed for the third time through the house. What was it? And where? As I passed my brother in the kitchen flipping pancakes in his magical way, I shouted, “How'm I supposed to eat breakfast?” “Eat brains!” he muttered, to me—or to them? I doubled back, seized his spatula and broke it. Blue light crackled. At once the zombies grasping at my collar crumpled to the floor. “DeathLove!” my brother exclaimed, “How did you know?” I grinned, thinking, “When in doubt, always look for a magic wand.”

Crunchylitemama said...

“Are you an organ donor?”
“Of course, doctor. This disease is turning me into a zombie; I'd rather someone get some use of me. You're sure my suicide will be undetectable? My brother needs my life insurance.”
“Your death will appear entirely natural,” assured Dr. DeathLove, drawing soy sauce and black licorice extract into a syringe. She held out her arm, saying, “I'm so happy people will be glad I'm gone.” Dr. DeathLove wheeled her corpse into a crowded back room. With glee he grabbed his spatula and announced, “It's time to eat brains!”

Chris Patterson said...

“Commence Operation DeathLove.”

Flamethrowers light up the night. Zombie hordes retreat into a valley where an invasion fleet of big-brained aliens is encamped.

General Grimm growls to himself, “Eat brains!”

The aliens don’t sense the zombie’s approach. The aliens’ psychic attacks are futile and their ships soon fill with mindless monsters.

The zombies relish the feast.

Panicked, the few remaining aliens order their strange spatula shaped ships to return home.

General Grimm announces the retreat to the troops.

“Let’s give our zombie brothers and sisters a hearty ‘Hoo-Rah’ as they begin their long, and hopefully one-way, journey across the galaxy.”

Chris Patterson said...

my wife suggested i try to put more action in it -- hopefully this is better? -- if not all my fault not hers of course!!

and thanks- this has been a fun exercise -

brandip73 said...

It was difficult to admit that this dead rotting zombie inching toward me was my brother. The words DeathLove printed on his T-shirt confirmed it.

I looked to my neighbor, Bill, who was standing in the kitchen and screamed, “Throw me a weapon.” Bill shuffled back and forth like a football player trying to find something. He grabbed a spatula, “Catch.”

“What the hell Bill? Am I going to spank him or kill him?”

I jumped on the counter grabbed the Chef knife and jabbed it in the top of his skull and screamed, “Eat brains and die loser.”

brandip73 said...

The good thing about railroad dining cars is the abundance of windows. My view today however was of a hoard of zombies outside surrounding us.

I looked to my brother Phil who was huddled in the corner squeezing a spatula, “What do you plan to do with that?”

Eyes distant, hands shaking, “Eat brains zombie scum.”

I flipped my I-pod to the song DeathLove and put the buds in his ears. That brought him back just as the first zombie made its way toward us. I watched in horror as the spatula lay bloody on the floor. I’m next.

Alex said...

“A zombie will eat brains until that godless filth corpse of rotten stench has had its fill. It will NEVER have its fill because its central nervous system is deader than a god damned horse fly smacked in the ass by a spatula! And that’s to our advantage soldiers because it takes a full sized zombie 8.5 minutes to tare through flesh and skull devouring its victims brain! Big brother just sent us 35 tons of live stock heads. Grab a shovel boys we’re about to unload forty eight hours of deathlove.”

S. D. Grimm said...


I knew the voice, Paul Owens, football team captain.

Anticipation sped my heartbeat. Just hearing the rest of his pack chanting “tap that” made me want this more.

“You’re hard to catch.” He tossed and caught his football like some clever joke.

You could love a guy’s hair, but hate the rest of him.

“Walk you home?” He asked.

My heart fluttered; I was about to squash him—he was like a cockroach against a spatula.

“You know the kid with Downs?”

“Yeah! Zombie boy eat brains!” He chanted.

“He’s my brother.”

“Fumble.” A teammate coughed.

Death to pride.

Anonymous said...

I held the spatula in the air and screamed, “The only one who is going to eat brains will be me if I hear you tell your brother one more time that zombies are coming for him.” She looked at her brother then back at me and smirked, “Well if you read DeathLove, you would know I’m telling the truth.”
Later that night, I sneaked into her room while she slept and retrieved her book. After reading it, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

Anonymous said...

I held the spatula in the air and screamed, “The only one who is going to eat brains will be me if I hear you tell your brother one more time that a zombie is coming for him.” She looked at her brother then back at me and smirked, “Well if you read DeathLove, you would know I’m telling the truth.”
Later that night, I sneaked into her room while she slept and retrieved her book. After reading it, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

Anonymous said...

It is strange for a teacher to hold a spatula while talking to the class. It was this strange habit that convinced me that Mr. Glory was a zombie. I got the creepy feeling that he would use that same spatula to smear brains of unsuspecting students on the "DeathLove" cupcakes he promises to bring in. My friend Eli told me his brother heard that Mr. Glory stands in his backyard late at night screaming, “Eat Brains!” I don’t want my brains ending up on no cupcake.

Amy Schaefer said...

The singer ran his hands down his face and glared at his manager. “Zombie Brother,” he said. “That’s what you’ve come up with for a new name.”

The manager held up his hands. “Hear me out. Spatula DeathLove wasn’t playing with our core audience...”

“Look at this,” laughed the drummer. He held up a mockup of the band, instruments in one hand and bleeding skulls in the other. “Eat brains!” he laughed.

The singer closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch. “And the label?”

“Loves it.”

Damn. Down to the money. “Alright,” he sighed. “Break out the makeup.”

Anonymous said...

Crowded into the pantry, we watched in awed horror as the short, overweight zombie gnawed contentedly on Mrs. Munch.

“Those zombies sure do like to eat brains,” my brother whispered.

The zombie stopped chewing, raised its head to listen.

We froze. Grasping my useless spatula tighter, I wished I’d taken the time to grab a knife. But then I’d be the body on the floor, and Mrs. Munch would be in here with my brother and his DeathLove band mates.

At least I was alive.

Then I heard the low moan and felt teeth on my head.

Alex said...

I used to be a son, a brother, a movie enthusiast, Shawshank, Lucky Number Sleven, loved that Kansas City shuffle. Now I’m a…


It sounds bad said like that, but yeah, that’s what I am. Now I eat brains, that shit’s delightful! Spatula them into my face hand over hand. Humans would describe it as blood lust. But that’s really negative, I think of it as deathlove.

People assume zombies can’t think or feel. But hell yeah we think and feel, just not in the same way. We’re a lot more chill, yah know?

Alex said...

Tim and Robbie locked a Zombie in their parent’s basement without their knowledge.

“Heyyy Brother, how’s the zombie today?”

“I taught him how to use the Spatula! He can flip things!”

Robbie’s super excited about this development, he’s been teaching Deathlove how to cook so he doesn’t have to eat his brains raw.

Flipping over a tin can, Deathlove groans proudly, “Braaiiins.”

“Dude!” Shouts Robbie “He’s totally ready.”

Tim high fives Robbie “He’s soo Ready!” Then pauses, “Where are we going to get the brains?”

The two brothers look at each other.

Rachel Schieffelbein said...

You've read about wicked step-mothers, well I actually have one.

My brother and I spy on her from behind the cupboard door. She banished us so she can make pancakes for our dad. She calls us names and yells at us all the time, but he doesn't believe us.

As she flips the pancakes I imagine zombies crawling into the kitchen. The spatula drops to the floor and she screams as they eat her brains.

Now that's a death I'd love.

Xander Pike said...

I dropped my spatula in a large vat of bubbling stew, which responded by splashing up a soggy piece of potato onto my nose. I didn’t care. I felt like a zombie today as I serve cafeteria food to the geeks attending the Math Olympics. I was only doing it as a favor to my brother – he had to bail on his day job to audition for a community theater production of the Edward Albee play, “DeathLove.”
I wanted to go home. Frankly, I wanted to die.
“Eat, Brains!” I yelled to the hyper-intelligent crowd and adjusted my hair net.