Confessions of a Teenage Zombie

I guess when you’re a zombie, you need to learn basic things, such as not eating someone’s brain. I guess it’s not too difficult to grasp, but it’s plenty difficult to follow when you constantly crave the sweet, gooey substance. But I digress.

I should explain some things, because this probably makes little sense. My name is Brendon, and I’m a zombie. Quite frankly, I have no idea how this happened. See, a few months ago, I was in a really horrible accident. My mother had forgotten to turn off the stove after she cooked breakfast one Sunday morning, and so my kitchen was on fire. We were all upstairs, so no one noticed until the alarm was sounding, and it was too late.

No one got out alive. Actually, that’s not true. I crawled to the sidewalk until I died from lack of oxygen due to smoke in my lungs. So really, no one involved in the fire lived.

But then, somehow, I found myself in a casket. I wasn’t alive, but I wasn’t dead, either. I was undead, hence the whole zombie thing. It was pretty dark when I had finally dug myself out of the grave, and I was missing a few fingers due to all the work of moving the dirt.

There was a man in a black long-tailed coat and slacks waiting when I finally got above ground. He introduced himself as Art, and he sewed my fingers back on for me. I guess it was a little awkward, but probably less so than if I had to go around with only four fingers altogether.

Art instructed me to follow him back to his place, and while it would’ve seemed like a very untrustworthy command, especially in Las Vegas, it’s not like I had much to worry about. I was a zombie; I could eat his brain if necessary.

However, when I got to his place, there were two others there. One was a vampire named Shane. Because of him, dim light bulbs had to be placed around the house, so as not to damage his health, or something like that. The other was named Ryan. He was a ghost, and to be honest, really whiny and annoying.

Art offered to let me stay with him and the other two, and hell, I agreed. I highly doubted that in my current form, many other people would’ve allowed me to stay with them. I had no idea why Art would let a vampire, a ghost, and a zombie in his house, but I wasn’t going to pry. Whatever was going on in his head that this was completely normal could only be good for me; I’d probably be eating internal organs on the streets right now if he hadn’t invited me to live with him.

It hadn’t taken me long to get along with Shane; he was actually a really nice guy, albeit a little obsessed with drinking blood and eating raw meat. I learned that on a dare, he drunkenly ran into a bat cave naked, and got bitten by several bats, eventually turning him into the creature he is today. I wondered if bat bites really did turn someone into a vampire, but who was I to question Shane? He had no reason to lie.

I also learned that he and Art were a couple, which helped with the whole family vibe that seemed to be going on in the house. Shane explained that he had no interest in sucking Art’s blood, which was fascinating to him, and he basically fell in love right then and there.

How that could make someone fall in love was beyond me, but who knew how vampires worked? I was just glad that I had no blood in me; I was in no danger of being around Shane.

Ryan, well, I barely knew a thing about him. Even though he was a ghost, he got his own room. He whined about not being able to use the bed, and he mostly spent his time staring longingly at several notebooks that were scattered about on his desk.

Every time I would ask him about his past, he’d start shrieking, and then eventually begin crying. I don’t know why I even bothered in the first place; this guy was obviously distraught. Granted, being a zombie isn’t exactly a grand picnic, but I don’t flip out when anyone talks to me about my past.

I had already bonded with Art the second he invited me to stay with him, Shane and Ryan. He kept the place running. He bought the groceries, paid the bills, and made sure we were all okay and not rocking back and forth in our little corners. Well, most of us. I’m pretty sure there’s no helping Ryan.

The one thing, though, is that we’re not really allowed out of the house. Ryan tried leaving once, went back to his old home, and started shrieking and groaning. Apparently, several people heard him, and flipped out when they found a mostly transparent teenage boy crying in a yard.

Shane seemed pretty okay with the whole idea; he didn’t like it in the day time anyway. Not even when he was human. I heard that the one time he did go out, he nearly went crazy from all the blood he could’ve gotten.

I wasn’t allowed out for obvious reasons, such as the gross, grey skin. It also doesn’t help that body parts had a tendency to fall off.

It was kind of boring, though. How did Art expect us to stay inside and not go crazy and kill each other? Okay, wrong use of words, since we were already dead. But it’s really boring after awhile.

I woke up one morning, kind of sad. I liked being outside; the air was nice and fresh. It was never too cold, and it was just nice to walk around for hours. I clambered out of my bed and rushed down the stairs and into the dining room, where Art and Shane were sipping tea.

“Art!” I shouted. He looked over at me, gently putting down his cup. “Art, can I please go outside? I promise I’ll wear make-up and tone down my craving for brains.”

“I’m really not sure that’s a good idea,” Art said. I jutted out my bottom lip. Shane told me that it was such a cute thing, and I could probably get anyone to do anything for me by doing it. “People you pass might recognize you, and that fire was kind of a big thing.”

“No they won’t!” I argued. Art arched an eyebrow. He had a point; I could potentially run into someone I used to know, or maybe even a friend of my siblings or parents. “Art, please?”

“Brendon,” Art murmured. He got up and walked over to me, taking my hands in his. He was shorter than I was, which sometimes made it hard for me to take him seriously. That was quite immature, but it’s how it worked in my mind.

“I’ll be good,” I mumbled. I looked over at Shane, who kept his eyes on the two of us. I turned back to Art. “Please? I’m getting paler than Shane, and I’m going to go crazy.”

Art held my cheeks and stared right into my eyes. I wasn’t sure, but I bet my skin was gross and clammy. I looked in a mirror once, and it wasn’t totally horrible. My skin was grey, and kind of messy, but at least none of it was missing. If I had been dead way longer, the maggots probably would’ve eaten me up, and I’d look horrendous. I probably wouldn’t even know it was me.

“Okay,” Art murmured. I smiled, and I wanted to cry. “But wear gloves to cover your hands, okay?”

“Yeah!” I exclaimed. Art wasn’t trying to be mean about keeping us all in; he just didn’t want to start a commotion, and I couldn’t blame him. I turned and ran upstairs, rushing for Ryan’s room. He was floating above his bed in a sitting position. Whatever makes him feel normal, I guess. “Ryan!”

“Yes?” He turned to me. He always kind of looked like a deer in the headlights. He probably was the same when he was alive.

“Art’s letting me go outside!” I shouted, raising my arms over my head in excitement. I hoped that maybe Ryan and I could maybe share the excitement and go on about how awesome the freedom would be, but instead, Ryan floated off quickly, wailing. I rolled my eyes and turned in the direction he had gone. “Fine, be a whiny baby about it! Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t let you out of the house!”

Ryan started getting even louder. I rolled my eyes again and went back into my room. While he cried like a huge, ghostly baby, I was going to be outside, partying like a madman.

This was going to be awesome.