The Zombie Who Just Wanted to Play

Leo loved baseball. Every Saturday, he watched the kids in the park playing, their bats swinging and balls flying through the sunny sky. But Leo never played. He was too shy.

One afternoon, while practicing alone near the old oak tree, Leo heard a strange groan. He turned around and gasped.

A small green figure shuffled toward him. It had messy hair, torn clothes, and pale skin. A zombie!

Leo's heart thumped. Zombies were supposed to be scary. They chased people and said "BRAAAINS." But this zombie just stood there, looking at Leo's baseball with wide, hopeful eyes.

"B-baseball?" the zombie croaked, pointing a green finger.

Leo blinked. "You... you like baseball?"

The zombie nodded enthusiastically. "Friend? Play?"

Something inside Leo softened. This zombie wasn't scary at all. He was just lonely.

"I'm Leo," he said, stepping closer. "What's your name?"

"Zzz... Zimby," the zombie whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Zimby. Want to play catch?"

Zimby's face lit up. His jagged teeth didn't look scary anymore—they looked like a big, happy grin.

They played until sunset. Zimby wasn't very good at first. His arms were stiff and his movements were clunky. But he tried his hardest, and Leo taught him how to hold the ball, how to swing the bat, how to slide into home plate.

"You're getting better!" Leo cheered when Zimby finally hit the ball.

The other kids watched from afar, amazed. They'd never seen a zombie play baseball before.

"Hey, Leo!" called Mia, the best player on the team. "Can we join?"

Soon, everyone was playing together. Zimby became the team's special secret weapon. He might have been slow, but he never gave up, and his awkward pitching was impossible to predict.

That Saturday, Leo wasn't shy anymore. He had a new best friend, and he'd learned something wonderful: sometimes, the scariest-looking things are just the loneliest. And everyone deserves a friend—and a chance to play baseball.