The cemetery is empty when I return alone. No flickering lights, no strange figures, just me and the rest of the residents who actually get to rest. For a moment, I envy them. They don't have to worry about being seen. They don't have to worry about why they're dead. None of those struggles apply to them. Just constant peace. Nothing more than worm food. I sigh and perch myself on my headstone, my fingers tracing the symbol.
I wouldn't have killed myself. Granted, I don't remember dying. My memory up to the week before my untimely death is crystal clear. After? Not a thing.
I sit on my headstone until the sky begins to turn red. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning, my father's words come to mind. What I'd give to hear him say that at breakfast just one more time.
I slide off my makeshift seat and climb down into my hole.
On cue, I wake up at the stroke of eleven. And I'm starving.
My diet is a little different now. When I was part of the living, I was a vegetarian. Meat was never my thing. Now? Just the smell of blood makes my mouth water. And it's been a couple of days since I've eaten. At least that part hasn't changed. But I learned the hard way that starving myself as this new me (I still can't refer to myself as a zombie. It's too cliche, and to be fair, I'm not after anyone's brains.) doesn't go as smoothly as it did alive. Instead of passing out from lack of calories, I...well, the term bloodlust comes to mind.
I close my eyes and all I can think of is Callum. And how sweet revenge is going to taste.
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ParanormalI'd always wondered what happens when you die. Christianity says you go to heaven or hell, Hindus and Buddhists believe you're reincarnated, Atheists just simply believe you're gone. Put in the ground and become worm food. So what did I beli...
