The Diary of a Reluctant Zombie

By Mathew Edwards

Tuesday, 15th March

Today has been the single weirdest day of my life. I suppose the day you die will generally be a bit strange no matter what the circumstances. It all started relatively normally. I got up about 11 this morning, usual time. I didn't have to be at work till six in the evening, which always leaves you at a bit of a loose end during the day. You can never really do anything that enjoyable, what with the thought of work in a couple of hours hanging over you. My brother rang up and said that he was looking for a new car and asked if I wanted to come round the dealers with him, and having nothing else to do I thought why not. We spent a couple of hours looking and started our return journey about half-four, just enough time for me to get some dinner before setting off to work. We were just literally pulling into my road when a gang of teenage lads walked right out in front of the car. Billy, my brother, slammed on the brakes and we stopped just short of one pasty looking kid, who duly kicked the front bumper. This totally infuriated me and I jumped out of the motor, absolutely raring to go. As soon as I was out of the car the gang, about eight of them I think, immediately surrounded me.
"You wanna go? Ya fucking prick!" the pasty kid shouted at me.
That was it. I totally lost my temper and grabbed him by the collar and gave him few smacks in the mouth - good punches too. I think I was shouting various obscenities, but I was 'lost in the flood' at that point so I can't really remember. I can just recall the kid really cowering and whimpering, the fucking wanker. I was looking at the pathetic specimen and having a bit of a gloat when I felt a big thud on my back, on the left-hand side. Like someone had just hit me with sledgehammer. And I could fell a warm, wet sensation down my back. There really was no pain, I think I was so hyped up that the adrenaline was taking care of that side of things. I felt very faint and woozy suddenly and must of pretty much fallen over straight backwards. I saw one of the kids run off and was aware of someone, probably Billy, crouching over me. I looked down and saw something poking out of my chest, right over my heart, making a sort of little tent out of my shirt. I became very cold and confused, then everything seemed to go at once. Sort of like when you are watching telly late at night and there is a power-cut. There is half a second's shock before the realisation sets in. As I say, sort of like that, but there was no realisation, just the shock then, well, nothing. There was no blinding flash or long dark tunnel or anything like that. Just nothing. If you can imagine falling asleep whilst feeling the most confused, cold and weird you ever have done, then you are vaguely in the right area. It's funny (in a morbid sort of way), but in the films people always say "Tell my wife I love her" or "I'll see you in hell" or something like that. For me it wasn't like that. More just "What the fuck?"
Next thing I remember is lying on the floor of my living room with Billy standing by my feet. I sort of came too with a jolt and saw his astonished face staring at me. I started to get up and found it a bit of a strain - I seemed to be all numb and a bit stiff.
"What's with you, ya weirdo?" I chuckled at him. "You look like you've just seen a fucking ghost!"
I walked over and looked in the mirror. My shirt was a bit grim and bloody, but what alarmed me most was the sort of grey/blue colour my face was.
"Shit. I look a bit peaky" I said, "I must be coming down with something. I think iam gonna call in sick tonight."
Bill was still staring with an alarmed expression.
"Come on. I've had worse fights than that before."
"I don't think so, Jim," said Billy.
"What is the matter with you? You're starting to freak me out now."
"Can you not remember getting what happened?"
"Well, I remember a bit of a scuffle"
"Can you not remember getting stabbed?"
I thought for a moment, then the realisation suddenly hit me.
I pulled my shirt open and saw a big slit in my chest over my heart.
I took my shirt off and turned to look at my back. There was a gaping hole below my left shoulder.
"Some kid put a kitchen knife right through your heart from behind, when you fell backwards you pushed the handle right into your back." said Billy.
"Jesus Christ. Shouldn't I be at the hospital or something? Fucking hell, call a fucking ambulance or something." I could feel the panic rising in me.
"Erm, I think it's a bit late for that Jim."
"Shit, shit!" I paced up and down.
"Calm down Jim. It's okay.
I stopped and looked at him, "What?"
He cleared his throat, "The thing is, erm, is that you actually died and I have bought you back to life."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"It's true. I got a sort of spell off the internet. It was something I had looked at and been interested in before. When you got stabbed you died there in the street, and I thought that I would try this out before I called the ambulance, you know, just in case it actually worked. Which it did."
I looked at him incredulously for a moment, "Have you gone mad?"
"Check your breathing, check your pulse."
I tried my to take pulse and found I didn't have one. I appeared not to be breathing either.
"Oh my God"
At this point the thought crossed my mind that I must be dreaming or hallucinating or something like that.
"It really has worked. I don't know how, but it has." said Billy, showing me a blood stained bit of A4 paper with some sort of Latin text on it. At the top it said 'Spell 14. Reincarnation of the Dead'.
"But how can I be walking and talking if my heart has stopped? If my nervous system is dead how can I see and hear and all that?"
"I really have no idea. I know it's a scientific impossibility, but it has worked anyway."
"I'm definitely not going to work now."
I had to sit down and take it all in. I was now a member of the living dead. Funny but the thought of eating human flesh still turns my stomach. Looks like that is a bit of artistic licence by Hollywood, thank God. In fact, I seem to have lost my appetite entirely. Billy made me a spaghetti bolognaise at teatime and I could not eat even a mouthful. I drank a cup of tea but found it sat funny in my stomach, so I bent right over and it just sort of poured out of my mouth, pretty much looking the same as it went in. I think zombies have no need for food or drink or indeed any sustenance at all. It's gonna save me a bit of money I suppose.
The rest of today has just been spent trying to come to terms with the impact all this will have on my life. Things will never be the same again, that's for certain.
I searched the internet for any help or advice organisations for newly created zombies, but alas there were none. You try putting 'zombie help' into your search engine and see what you come up with. It ain't pretty.
Billy went home at about 11; he is going to take the rest of the week off work to help me adjust.
Tomorrow I think I will go to the library and see if they have any books on the subject, also see what its like to go out and about in my new state.
I must go to bed now, it has been a tiring day, as you can imagine.

Wednesday, 16th March

8am: Discovered that zombies don't sleep. When your body is dead it doesn't need a lot of rest I suppose. Last night I tried to sleep for a couple of hours before I realised it was fruitless, so I just watched telly in bed all night. You'd be surprised at the kind of shit they show in the wee small hours. Made the night fly by anyway.
The problems came about ten minutes ago when I tried to get out of bed. Iam absolutely stiff as a board (and not in that way, cheeky). I should have expected this, what they call rigor mortis - the stiffening of the body after death. It's not so bad, it just makes me walk like one of those horrifically sunburnt people you see on holiday. I can bend my knees and elbows, it's just a bit of a strain.
I think I'll have a bath then go down to the library.

11pm: My first full day as one of the dead.
Took me an hour to get to the library - normally a ten minute walk. I think that the slow lumbering walk is something that the films have got right. The stiffness won't really allow for any normal movements at all. No moaning or holding my arms out in front of me though - that would be a bit hard to disguise. It came as no surprise that they didn't have any books about my predicament, but seeing as I was there I got a load of novels out anyway. I will have a lot of spare time on my hands, what with gaining an extra eight hours in the day due to the non-sleeping thing.
I also stopped in at the computer game shop and got a few games for my Playstation to help pass the time, I avoided the Resident Evil ones, it seemed a bit in bad taste really. On the way back I bumped into Anthony, an old school mate. I could see him looking at me funnily as I was talking to him. He actually asked me if I was feeling alright, and remarked that I looked like "Death warmed up" Oh, the irony. I told him I had a rare strain tropical flu and that it is very contagious and he soon fucked off.
When I got in I took a look in the mirror. I had to concede that Anthony had had a point, I looked horrific. I rang Billy and asked him to get me some sort of make-up, foundation and that sort of thing. I may look like a girlie queer with a face full of 'slap', but it will be better than going out with the ugly grey look. I was never one for the whole goth/Marilyn Manson look.
I jacked my job in this afternoon, I don't think the customers in the bar would like me taking ten minutes to get them a drink. I told my boss that I had a health problem that I didn't really want to talk about. He didn't seem to mind - he never really liked me anyway. It left him short of staff for tonight but, as my old Nan used to say, "Fuck 'em!"
Billy came around in the early evening with some videos for me to watch and we played cards up until a few minutes ago when he went home.
It's a weird existence when you don't have food or drink or sleep or whatever to look forward to. Still, better bored than dead, if you know what I mean.
Must go and sign on at the Job Centre tomorrow. Even zombies need to pay the rent.

Saturday, 18th March

Haven't wrote an entry for a couple of days, not a lot has really happened until today. Went and signed on Thursday, iam going to have to wait six weeks before I can claim any sort of unemployment benefit due to me resigning from my last job. I will have to use my holiday savings to pay the rent up till then, not going to get much of a tan now anyway.
I have been reading, surfing the net and playing the Playstation a lot over the last few days, it has kept me occupied anyway. I go down to the local shop every day to get a paper, but what with the stiffness it seems to much like hard work to go any further afield. Billy came round today and remarked on the musty smell when he entered the flat. I opened a few windows and it seemed to clear a bit, however, when I shut them it came back with a vengeance. Billy came close to me and smelt me (a bit rude I thought) and wrinkled his nose up in disgust.
"Jesus. You absolutely stink."
"Piss off, I showered only this morning."
"No, it's not sweat, it's rotting flesh. Shit, you must be decomposing."
"Oh my fucking God. I can't believe this."
"I never thought of this. What an idiot."
"You're telling me, you're an idiot."
"Alright, alright. Don't blame me, it's not my fault."
"Well whose fucking fault is it then?"
"Look Jim, if it wasn't for me you would be in a freezer with a load of other corpses now."
"As opposed to what Bill? Rotting as I sit around here being bored to death."
Billy smirked at my unfortunate turn of phrase and I cracked a reluctant smile.
"Well what are we gonna do about it anyway?" I asked him.
" I'll look on the site that gave me the original spell, it might have one that stops the decomposing effects of death"
"You'd better get to it, mate. I don't fancy this smelling lark very much."
"I'll get to it now."
He looked on the original site and could find nothing, he then spent another couple of fruitless hours searching the internet for a suitable spell, but unfortunately could find nothing. We settled for emailing the webmasters of the original site and asking for help, also asking for some help with the rigor mortis. Billy seemed to think that this would work as he had recently emailed them for a spell to help him find love (which must have worked, judging by the quality of his new girlfriend). He told me to sit tight and they would get back to us probably in a few days.
Billy was so sure that it would be alright and his insistence did something to put me at ease.
I'm just going to have to content myself with sitting around indoors until the site emails us back. Won't be so bad really, at least I have the release from the stiffness to look forward too.

Wednesday, 22nd March

It's been four days now and still no word from the website. A hole has opened up in my left cheek and you can see my teeth and grey gums through it. The smell is absolutely disgusting. Billy can't even bear to be around me now and I can't really blame him. He is going to come round when the emailed spells come in, and hopefully cure me of all this.
My skin has gone a browny green colour and my lips are starting to be eaten away. I don't know if I can take much more of this. The skin around my stab wounds is starting to go black and flaky as well. Hurry up and mail us back, for God's sake.

Saturday, 25th March

Still no word.
Something strange is starting to happen to me. My thought process is becoming slow, and I can't seem to concentrate on anything. My head feels like it is full of clouds or something. A sort of horrible doped up feeling. Holes are starting appear all over my body, and my skin has now gone a sort of black. I have told Billy to stay away, I don't want him to see me like this until his has the spell to cure me in his hand.

Tuesday, 28th March

I realise now that my brain is decomposing, explaining the muddy feeling in my head. I can bearly think straight at all. Even writing this is a huge strain. My appetite is starting to return, I think it is part of the brain decomposing process. Iam terrified because I think I am starting to crave human flesh. I can't explain it at all. It is scaring the shit out of me. Must be like when people with rabies get an irrational fear of water. An early part of the brain to rot must be the bit that regulates your tastes and cravings. I cannot face even speaking to Billy now, I don't know how far my craving will go and Iam scared I will try to get him here to eat him, as ridiculous as it sounds. My vocal chords are starting to go, I find it hard to speak now. I sound like you would do if you spoke with your fist in your mouth the whole time. They must email back soon or it will be too late.

Wednesday, 29th March

This morning my jaw fell off. I was sitting on the settee and it just fell into my lap. It means I cannot speak at all now, but just sort of groan. I took a look in the mirror and could not believe what I saw. My top lip has been entirely eaten away, so my top set of teeth is totally exposed. My tongue is still in my mouth and just sort of flaps about, whilst you can see right into my black throat. It really is not a nice sight, and I try to avoid looking in the mirror as much as possible. I just sit around now, checking the email every five minutes. I have totally lost my concentration so I can't watch telly or read or anything anymore. Still no reply.

Friday, 31 March

This will be the last thing I ever write. The reply came today saying there were no spells to help the decomposing. There is a spell on the site to put the dead to rest again. Billy has come round to do it for me. He is in the living room preparing at the moment. My head feels so gummy and slow. I think each word takes me ages to type. The craving for flesh is unbearable, I can't go on like this anymore. I feel that if I carry on even for a few more days my mind will go and I will loose all consciousness. Become a mindless zombie, so to speak. I will have no more control over my actions at all, and I reckon I shall be on the hunt for meat without having the capacity for thinking about what iam doing. Not that I would be able to bite anyone, it would be a bit hard with no bottom jaw. It would be comical if it weren't so fucking tragic. After I finish typing I will go into the other room and Billy will put me to, erm, death. Suppose he will have a lot of explaining to do, but it won't matter to me in a few minutes, if iam gonna be selfish about it. It's me that's dead, so he should think himself lucky really.
I have asked him to post this internet as a warning to others. Please don't mess with any voodoo shit or anything like that, it is not worth it. The consequences are very grave, pardon the pun. You stick to .net instead, it is marginally better for your health.