Erik, the Zombie Prince

Chapter One: Narcissus

Ah yes, I remember it quite clearly, those first moments of sentience- back from the dead, or that slumber one sleeps when life is but a long reel of endless repetition. One could call such a thing 'ennui,' and he would be correct. Perhaps with the immortalisation of my brain, I've been granted the pristine ability of recalling memories with absolute precision. If that is so, well, that is a wasted gift upon the vast majority of the Zombiekind.

But I digress.

I remember the hunger first, ah yes... very, very hungry. My stomach was immensely empty, and the thought of sustenance was filling my mind. My eyes blinked, and it seemed the weight of sleep and dreams were still heavy upon them. The sunlight cut through the branches of the trees and stung my vision, and I could barely stand it. It must've been high noon, and judging by the heavy air and sweet scent, spring was in full bloom around me.

Alas, yet I could not remember, for the life of me, what day it was... Was yesterday Sunday then? And today, Monday? It became quite the puzzle. Well, whatever day it is, I shouldn't start it on an empty stomach, I thought. If only I could have a breakfast of delicious, warm entrails... ah but wait, that does not seem quite right, does it? Perhaps a salad... with a pancreas finely chopped into it! Hmm, no no, that doesn't seem correct, either...

And what was this foul smell? Not of spring, and not of flowers. This was the rancorous smell of rotting death.

My eyes wandered down, and beheld the gaping carcass of a slain deer. Its innards were spilt in plain view, and its eyes and mouth were wide open, as if in shock of its sudden violent death that must have befallen it- like a maddening wind rolling down a mountain and into dark wintry valley. The body seemed cold, and flies had already begun their feast. Normally, anyone would vomit upon such a sight, yet somehow it seemed strangely normal to me. But who had done such a visceral and garish slaying?

There wasn't much time. I had to find food, help- anyone, or anything to help find my bearings. And so, I wandered the wilderness for some time, and my thoughts wandered as well. Nothing seemed familiar, and home seemed a distant, far off place, tucked somewhere in the back of my mind, and the recesses of my heart. Home was such a vague feeling, and the notion that I was a complete outsider was pervasive upon the surface of my thoughts.

Finally, I came upon a road, and what appeared to be a city in the distance. A lone traveller seemed to be heading there on foot, and I felt the good mirth of hope kindle whatever heart there was in my body. I hurried to him as quickly as I could, though I somehow inherited an impossibly troublesome limp along the way. I attempted to hail him in my eagerness.

'Oouuuuaaawaaauurrrgh!!' was what escaped my lips, however. How peculiar! What on earth was going on?

Naturally, the man's response when he turned about was one of blatant terror.

'Aaaahhh!! Get away from me, you fiend!' he shrieked in a language other than my own. Was this the musical note of Italian I was hearing? Brilliant! Distant memories of Italian studies flashed through my head, but instantly vanished as the sensitivity of the moment pressed on.

Wait, wait! I simply mean to ask you where one might find warm food and lodging? And what day it is? Moreover, what year? I attempted to convey to my newfound acquaintance. However, all that was being said was:

'Guuuuaaaarghhgrhjgf... AAAUUUGH! AAAUUUGHGH!!!' In my desperation to communicate and reach out to him, my hands flung up and my throat began to gurgle incoherently. This only seemed to frighten him the more so, and his olive complexion turned impossibly wan. Before I knew it, he had run into the city, a screaming mess of a man.