Once a year do hellish waves of un-death thrash and flail across the mortally prevalent city of Brighton. This year, moans of agonising hunger were released from the torn throats of former-Brightonio’s, as they marched relentlessly on their mindless quest for brains, flesh, and a club that would play Thriller. Brighton 2012’s beach of the dead is thought to have given rise to the largest zombie outbreak in recorded history, trumping last year’s record of over four thousand brain-feasting ghouls. The streets of Brighton may be clear now, but its citizens will forever have the horror of that day burnt into their minds. A team of specialist bio-hazard outbreak control officers were immediately dispatched to the scene; however, even their experience wasn’t enough to tide the mass, resulting in copious degrees of zombie-traffic accumulating at western road. The wails of the un-dead grew ever more fearsome as they sloshed about one another in their automatous campaign to harvest the living. Zombies crashed into zombies, ghouls were caught among ghouls. Their only semblance of communication came from the dissonant cries of frustration escaping the maws of each, as they stumbled through The Lanes. Today was not a day for shopping.
Having successfully manoeuvred the zombies through western road, the outbreak team sought to contain the zombies once and for all. The horde was promptly guided back to the seafront, along the shore, and through the gates of Concorde2. They were here greeted by the turbulent echoes of a funeral march, a melody that calmed the beasts within. This calamity did not last for long; upon entering the club, a deep and buried lust was awakened within them. The zombies hungered for brains no longer. They just wanted to dance.