Onwards: A Collection of Short Stories

OMZ!

Shoes? Check.

Dirt-free and non-funky smelling clothes? Check.

Hair tied up in a bun with a few strands hanging loose? Check.

Heavy makeup on? Check.

Fake eyeglasses? Check.

Teeth clean, fangs out? Check.

Good. I'm ready to go, I tell myself in front of the mirror after spending what felt like an hour just trying to get ready for school.

I used to not wear makeup. I used to not have fangs, either. But ever since that night, my life changed. Even my appearance changed although I try really hard to make it seem like it hasn't. Like what I'm doing now.

It hasn't been long since this happened to me and I can still remember every detail of what went on that night that made me who, or more specifically what, I am today. I'm a living (well, not exactly), breathing (it's kinda optional now) zombie.

I'm unlike those zombies that you see on the movies or on TV, though. Well, yeah, I'm pale since the blood that used to flow in my veins has been magically drained from my body and I eat people's organs - dead people, mind you - which I constantly crave but I don't talk all mumbly and I don't walk funny either. In fact, I feel like the same old me but with some added features.

Like the fangs. Yeah, zombies have fangs too. How else are we supposed to tear flesh apart to get to those yummy organs if we just have regular teeth? That just won't do, right?

My senses have also improved drastically. I used to have really poor eyesight but now these glasses are just for show. I can even see the ants crawling up on our next-door neighbor's tree from my bedroom window and I can hear clearly the hushed conversation my sister is having with her boyfriend on the phone in the other room.

My phone's alarm suddenly goes off, reminding me that I have five to ten minutes to get my butt out of the house if I want to catch a few glimpses of him before class. I grab my bag from the dresser and head straight to the kitchen downstairs for a quick breakfast.

I scan the inside of the fridge and took out a container labeled 'kidneys'. I stuff a few slices of the fresh raw meat in my mouth before hurrying out the front door.

My parents are the only ones who know about my condition and they are surprisingly supportive of it. I mean, not many zombies (I'm not really sure how many of us are out there) can say that they dig up graves with their parents in the middle of the night to harvest organs. To tell you the truth, I haven't felt this close to them when I was just a normal teen. I guess that's one of the benefits of becoming a zombie.

I normally take the bus to school but these days, I just run. I don't think I've gained speed since I got turned but it's really not that far and I find it fun to exert that much effort without feeling tired or even breaking a sweat.

I get to school in time to see his Chevy Impala pull over at his usual parking spot. I watch as he gets down from his car and walks across the yard toward the entrance of the first building.

He's in his usual skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. His long, curly hair is tied in a sloppy ponytail and half of his face is covered by a pair of aviators.

This right here, seeing him in all his gloriousness, is the best part of my day.

It sucks that, even though we're both juniors, we don't have any classes together. What blows even more is the fact that he has forgotten about me when all I can think about is him.

Well, I don't really blame him. It happened near the end of sophomore year and I'm just one of the girls who fell (literally on him when I tripped while going down the stairs) and got swept off her feet (he carried me all the way to the school's infirmary).