As we sit around the campfire together, on this oh-so-apocalyptic eve, and the undead yet unalive descend upon us, we ask ourselves what is it about zombies that makes us so uncomfortable? Is it the shredded flesh, the loose-hanging organs being devoured? Or maybe it's our own internal (pun intended) reflections on how we sometimes feel in our own lives, mindlessly wandering, unsatiated, consuming more and more while we overlook what we have.
Or...
Does Rotting Upright, Volume 1 offer reasons to keep going? Does each story inspire and remind us to find satisfaction in what is versus what is not, or do the stories inside this entropic anthology speak to something more sinister?