Hi there! This is a little Frozen crossover piece with the universe and themes of the book/film Warm Bodies featuring Zombie!Anna and Elsa, plus the rest of the Frozen cast. This idea ran away with me after seeing a fantastic fanart of Anna as R from Warm Bodies by jungie14395 on Tumblr she has an account here on ffnet, go look her up for links to her tumblr and deviantart accounts because her Elsanna art is beyond incredible! This originally started out as a couple of drabbles and I'm hammering it out into a full length fic. There will be random appearances here from other Disney characters as well. Some I will name, some will just speak for themselves. Anna and Elsa will be sharing some scenes from the movie but will also be having their own adventure through this universe. There'll be some laughs and some tears, some action and some brain eating, cute awkward fluff and a tinge of angst, nasty creatures and sassy zombies. Also music, because that was one of my favorite things about the film. Many many thanks to my beta Azaria97 for being a wonderful sounding board of ideas, proofreading, also keeping my commas straight...or curved...or something, and just being an all around awesome person. Also thanks to my dear friend and creative consultant EOTWY00xx00. Head over and check out his piece Wayfaring Stranger for a truly epic and beautiful Elsanna romance/adventure.

And now go-go gadget disclaimers!

I don't own Disney's Frozen or Issac Marion's Warm Bodies
Also do not own lyrics from "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted" by Jimmy Ruffin

Warnings: Swearing, Gore, Violence, General Zombie Grossness

Ok. Are you ready? Let's go.

"Velkommen til Arendelle Internasjonale Flyplassen."

"Vel..ko..mmmm."

"Välkommen till Arendelle Internationella Flygplats."

""Vääällkkk"

"Bienvenue à l'Aéroport International de Arendelle."

"Biiii...eeennnnn"

"Welcome to Arendelle International Airport."

"Weelllll..."

Well shit, I give up.

"We hope your enjoy your stay in the beautiful city of Arendelle, the land of the sleepless skies and the undying crocus."

Sleepless and undying...pfffft...I guess that's accurate.

Yeah...so...welcome to Arendelle. You'll definitely be staying a while. For dinner probably. Maybe breakfast and lunch too if you're lucky. Yeah, you'll be lucky if you get eaten. If you're not so lucky you'll just get bitten or these fools won't finish off your brain. Then you'll be waking up to walk around with the rest of us in a permanent state of hunger and restlessness. Either way, I can't say you're going to enjoy it very much.

"The white zone is for loading and unloading of passengers only."

"Whh...whhh...iiiiitttteeee ...zzzz...oooonnnnneeee..."

Don't worry though, I wouldn't let that happen to you. I'd like to think its because I'm merciful and kind enough not to let anyone end up like this. It's an awful, awful existence. This isn't something we signed up for and I wouldn't wish it on anyone...if I knew what wishing was. However, if I'm being completely honest, it's been a hell of a long winter and I am fucking starving. I'm sure I'd gorge on your organs, strip your bones and suck out the marrow leaving you little more than a red stain on the floor surrounded by a bit of hair and some shreds of clothing.

Actually I'm pretty sure the rest of them would too. We're all tired of just getting by on the squeaking, brown things that have ran amuck here since the snows started. Too much hair, not enough meat. Our usual prey wintered over behind the wall they resurrected around the middle of the city. Disrupts the natural order of things if you ask me. Meanwhile, we're all stuck here in an eternal layover. Truly a hell for any species.

The snows are melting though, and I imagine the humans will be stirring soon enough. It's a good thing too because I've spent way too long thinking. Too much time pondering my own existence. Too much time noticing the hopeless disconnection of everyone around me. Just look at them. They're looking up, they're looking down, they're looking straight ahead. But they're not looking at each other. The only time we move in the same direction with any unity at all is when we're hunting.

Otherwise, we're usually smacking into each other with barely a grunt of acknowledgment and that's it. We have gatherings sometimes. They're never planned, they just sort of happen. We end up in a circle of blank stares and empty faces. There'll be gestures sometimes, but only to ourselves. The rest will try and mimic it. That's the extent of our social interaction as a group. I've tried to communicate further, but it seems to be a lost cause.

Maybe its me. Maybe I'm just defective. A misfit. I mean hell, I've been riding this baggage carousel for the last four hours and no one has noticed. Not that I'm vying for attention or anything. I guess...I guess I'd just like to be noticed by someone once in a while. I notice them. They all look terrible. I mean so do I but at least I'm aware of it. I'm aware enough to know that I'm different. I just don't know if it's a good different.

My name is A by the way, and all my friends are dead.

Well, technically I only have one friend. He's still dead though...I'm dead too. We all are. Undead actually. You kinda figured that out right? Of course you did. We're the living dead, the unconsecrated, the revenants, the infected, the ghouls, the walkers. We're the poor bastards that were kicked out of hell because there was no more room.

You know...zombies.

Anyway where was I? Oh yes, my friend. He's that big, lumbering brute over there with the unmanly blondness punching holes into the wall. I'm sure he's looking for more of those little rations with the long pink handles. He's a rather resourceful and, dare I say, a more experienced zombie than most of us. Wait...no...never mind...he's just eating the dry wall. Did I mention it's been a long winter?

Regardless, he's still my friend. I guess I can call him my friend. At least...he's the only one I've found with the ability to talk like me. Or it could be that he's the only one who will talk to me in this place. We both can manage a couple of syllables strung together at a time. Over the course of several hours, we may even get a pretty riveting conversation going. But he usually gets frustrated and wanders off before then. Zombies aren't known for their patience.

He calls himself K. Like me, he only remembers the first letter of his name. That's pretty much all we know of ourselves. Most of it gets erased when the corpse is reborn. The brain just sort of reboots itself with only very basic functions and just enough memory to make it very frustrating as to why we can't remember anything. It's like a clean slate with a little bit of chalk residue. We don't get the memories of who we were, what we did, or who our family and friends were. You know, the important things. But we do remember certain, every day tasks that we used to do. Certain objects or actions that are buried so deep in our decayed minds that even death couldn't take them. Muscle memory.

I like looking around and trying to guess the old professions these corpses used to have. Like that guy over there that endlessly mops the floor everyday...in that exact same spot...back and forth and back and forth. I'm sure he was an excellent janitor. When he was alive, of course. These guys over here, shambling by in their three-piece suits? I bet they were some sort of corporate executives here on a business deal when everything went south. Oh, and the well dressed blonde there with the missing leg crawling across the floor? I bet she was an Olympic gold medalist in the women's ski jump. Or maybe she was a lawyer. It's hard to say.

A wayward glance over at myself is a little more mysterious...a sloppy red jacket, a baggy grey t-shirt, faded jeans, and worn out sneakers. Whatever occupation I had in life at that particular moment in time when I died, I imagine it was being magnificently unemployed. That's pretty depressing to dwell on, so let's look at someone else.

Oh! This woman here... I bet she...um...well, I have no idea what she was...except old. Oh my God, she's so old! What's holding her together? She must have been, like, a ninety-seven when she became a zombie. How on Earth did she even survive that? How the hell did she live through the winter? Does she even have teeth? How does she eat? So many wrinkles...gotta give her props for that hair though. There's a hell of a lot of body in that white, curly mane on top of her head. But she looks like she might evaporate in a cloud of dust any second. That's it. I'm going to call her patient zero. She must have started this whole mess when she rose up out of a crypt in some cemetery.

Truth is no one really knows how all of this happened. I've tried to piece things together. I've looked through all the newspapers scattered around here. Zombies can't read..so I usually just ended up chewing on the pages. Was it a parasite? A virus? An experiment gone wrong? Bio weapon? I don't know. We were alive once, and then we weren't. K insists it is a "tro...ll cur...se" which is just downright silly. I mean, I'd like to think I have a pretty good imagination for a dead girl, but that's a bit of a stretch.

"Troll...like there's such a thing," I think as I watch a man in a bathrobe aimlessly poke a decayed finger in a hole on his cheek and start to peel the skin off his face. Tch. You shouldn't pick at yourself. That's how you get maggots. I mean, I don't even know what a troll is, but the fact that it can distribute curses sounds way out there to me. I may be a zombie, but I'm a zombie of reason damn it.

Actually, I can't comprehend a lot that goes through my head even though I have a fairly expansive vocabulary, as you can see. The thought is there, the understanding is well, not always. It's all trapped behind this wall of… I don't know… being dead, I guess. There's all these holes and gaps. I guess you could think of the average zombie brain as being squishy wheels of super holey Swiss cheese. What is Swiss cheese? I don't fucking know! I just know it comes in wheels and is full of holes. Do you see how frustrating this is? It's not all a total loss though. We can fill some of the voids when we eat the brains of the living.

More on that later, I'm a little too caught up in my existential crisis at the moment.

What is our purpose here? I mean, is this all there is? Is it all just walking, moaning, and ripping apart the living to feast on their entrails? Don't get me wrong, I love to hunt and I love to kill. But times like now, I think... there's just got to be more. I want to feel again. I want to connect. Why can't we connect anymore? Why do I feel so...lonely? Why am I feeling at all? I'm pretty sure mindless killing machines aren't supposed to feel anything outside of the insatiable hunger that drives us to the point of madness...much less feel lonely. Especially when they're in a room full of their own kind. But I do. I wonder if anyone else does. I'd ask K, but I'm sure he'd just get grumpy with me. He doesn't like that sort of discussion.

And let's face it...he always gets grumpy with me. I'm chatty...I can't help it.

I wonder if I have a family out there somewhere. Maybe they're alive behind the wall. I wonder if they miss me. I imagine I would miss them too if I had any memory of them. For all I know, they're here somewhere shuffling along in their daily commute, moaning and groaning about their hunger and wouldn't know me if they knocked me down, tripped over me, and stepped on my face.

Hell, maybe I ate them. I don't remember eating them, but there isn't a lot to be said about zombies and long-term memory. Or short-term memory for that matter. Our attention spans are very, very brief if it doesn't involve rending a live, screaming body into fun-size pieces. I have no idea what I did yesterday...or the day before. Time just seems to meld together into one endless walk with meals in between.

I finally rise from my slumped position on the moving conveyor with all the grace the afterlife has bestowed on me. The airport spins forward as the floor rises up to meet me with a loud smack. My groan is muffled as I try to peel my face from the tile. The first thing I see when I push myself up on my hands is two sets of feet. Small feet. One set is bare and covered in dead blood and filth, the other barely a step above with pale lifeless toes poking out from straps of cloth holding on to flat bottoms. Are those shoes? How do they stay on?

My eyes move up to meet the blank stares of two young kids. Dead kids. Zombie children. We apparently come in pint sized. This fact probably should disturb me on some level, but it doesn't. I'm more bewildered by the fact that they've stopped to look at me, to notice me. Of course, I did just face plant in front of them, but I'm not going to concern myself with details.

"Hhh...Hhh...Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii."

That's my icebreaker. Nailed it.

They make no motion of acknowledgment and now I'm not sure if they're looking at me, or looking through me. The little girl in the red dress with the white leaf print is unmoving with dark hair falling over her face. The boy next to her is hidden underneath a blue hoodie with the letters O-H-A-N-A scrawled across his chest. I can't see any more of him save for the glint from two dark glowing eyes. I move closer in my prostrate position trying to assure them of my humble intentions. I have no idea what proper zombie submission etiquette is. I'm pretty sure they don't either. I'm just gonna wing it.

There's a deep gurgle from the boy and I think finally I've made contact. His lips begin to part. Surely he's about to speak or at the very least acknowledge me with a grunt? The answer to that question comes as he proceeds to vomit black sludge all over himself, the floor, and me. Something splats in the center of the puddle surrounding my knees as it exits his mouth with the rest of his stomach contents.

I'm not exactly sure if this is flat out rejection of my social endeavor or nerves, but seeing as how neither of those are a thing in zombie culture, I'm just gonna go with 'he had to barf'. I wipe the bile from my face as he takes a side step closer to the girl. Perhaps they had a connection with each other. They could have been friends, maybe even family. It could be that our world might not be so black and white and covered in vomit. Maybe there was hope for something more. I reach out with dripping hands and pull theirs together. The contact is enough to bring both sets of dead eyes to settle on the union I had made. They were so young. They shouldn't be alone.

"Sssss...taaayyyy to...geth...errrrr," I tell them and release their hands. "K-ke..ep...y-youu...s...affee."

I look for any sort of understanding in their vacant stares but they reveal none as they proceed to shuffle past me. Though not before the boy pauses and plucks the long regurgitated hairy snack handle from my shoulder and shoves it back into his mouth. So that probably went okay. I mean, it could have been a lot worse...I guess. That's the thought I have anyway as I try to brush the undead puke off my jacket in vain.

There's a shiny glint that catches my eye in the pool of black ichor in front of me. I reach and pull whatever it is from it's slimy burial mound. It's smooth...round...no wait! I wipe it off on my jeans. Four corners. A rectangle! A shiny rectangle! This might just be the best day ever! I bring it to my face as my fingers trace the lines eagerly. When my fingertip glides across a top corner, it breaks apart with a metallic click.

Well shit. So much for best day ever.

It has insides...guts...I hold it close to my nose and determine its definitely not edible. Well...I mean, obviously it must have been edible for the kid, but it appears to be lacking in living tissue and nourishment. I'm about to give it up for a lost cause when my thumb rolls over a ridged wheel, releasing an orange flame to assault my nostrils. I make a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl as I fall backwards on my butt in front of the tiny inferno. It's fire...I know fire. I hold my free hand close to it, letting my fingers run through the dancing light. Something...some basic instinct inside of me remembers fire. It remembers how it burns. How it used to be...warm.

But I feel nothing now, staring absently while the flame darkens the dead skin on the palm of my hand. I shake the rectangle in frustration, and it snaps back together snuffing out the burning force inside. I'll keep it with me so I can add it to my collection I decide, bringing myself to my feet with some difficulty. I need to get back to my plane, back to my treasures, back to my music.

My vision tunnels on my destination as I make my way back through the gate towards the runway. K looks up from his digging and hole punching to acknowledge me for the first time today.

"A...," He begins slowly as I pass by. I think he sees the determination in my dull gaze. "Whee..rree...go..oing?"

"H-h..ommee," I reply, pausing long enough to offer him a sideways glance over my shoulder.

The night winds are blowing cool and steady when I step out onto the tarmac. At least, that's how I imagine them to be. I can only see how it picks up the stray strands of hair around my face. It's strange how I'm even noticing this. Strange how I'm actually looking up at the stars, watching them shimmer from a distance. And I can't even begin to comprehend the glowing ribbons of green light that swim beneath them. It really is beautiful...why have I never paid attention?

Suddenly, a familiar scent blown toward me on the wind caresses my nose and melancholy emotions immediately give way to a deeply rooted primal need. A sound somewhere between a moan and a growl erupts from my lips as coherency is replaced by insatiable hunger.

There's prey nearby.

The sweet stench of fear and the distinct odor of a living counterpart is almost overpowering. After months of waiting, I would finally get a kill. Not only that, but there was no one else around. I would have it all to myself. Zombies are rather possessive creatures if I'm being honest. We don't like to share if its not necessary. We're usually too busy with the rending and eating though to fight amongst ourselves.

I shuffle as quietly as possible following the scent leading me towards an overturned baggage car. I'm not made for stealth, but I have to keep the dragging feet and the random moaning in check if I want this hunt to be successful. Overpowering by sheer numbers isn't an option out here, and if dinner decides to run...well I'm pretty much out of luck.

I'm close enough now that I can hear their ragged breathing somewhere behind one of the trailers. The fact that they weren't making a mad dash for it was very reassuring for my sloppy stalking skills. The lights in the sky provide enough illumination for me to make out a silhouette crouched between the wheels. I have visual confirmation of my target. It's male. That's fine. I have no gender preference when it comes to food.

Now, as long as I don't trip and fall in typical "me" fashion, I would soon be feeling that hot rush of blood surging down my throat and coating my insides. The heat of living blood and tissue is the only warmth I know. There's nothing to feel on the outside. Inside however, there is the briefest rush of heat when I close my mouth around a living thing and it feels like that geyser of blood is pouring to every extremity, washing away all the dead inside me. That's all metaphorical though...or something. I don't know. I'm a zombie. I'm terrible at metaphors. That rush though, it's definitely only second to the rush you get from eating brains.

A tendril of drool oozes from the corner of my mouth and flutters in the wind. There's a vibration at the base of my skull filling my ears with a low hum that drowns out every sound save for the one of labored breathing that I've honed in on. A scent wafts into my nostrils and I realize this prey is injured. Even better. The world turns red and I prepare to push everything I have into rushing this human. I'm close enough now that I can make out the rolled whites of his eyes while he's staring in the opposite direction. I definitely had the element of surprise going for me and I needed to remind myself not to go for a stray leg or arm.

Go for the throat, smash their head against the ground to immobilize him as quickly as possible. K taught me that. The roar of the charge builds up in my throat and I push my feet into the ground. Time slows as I begin to bolt. There's absolutely nothing in between me and this entree pinned under this vehicle until he turns and locks his gaze with mine. For some reason the sound of his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks.

"H-help me...please."

I feel my head begin to tilt on its own in my confusion. Help you? Dude...I'm going to eat you.

I mean that damn it. Don't just take my standing here all stunned as any motive to the contrary. Maybe he doesn't recognize what I am in this light. I begin moaning and shuffling towards him so he can make no mistake about it. I, on the other hand, just made a huge one. What the hell is wrong with me?

"P-please. Please help me. I-it's coming. I d-don't want to..." His hushed voice trails off in a series of shallow breaths.

Okay, never mind me. What the hell is wrong with him?

A creature steps out from the other side of the wreckage to provide an answer to that question. Now concepts of size elude me...too big to eat means I don't pay attention, too small usually means too difficult to chase. Pro and con...when applied to meals, it just makes sense.

But this thing...I have no way of categorizing it, even in my own, simplistic fashion. It moves on four legs instead of two. Legs that are bigger, longer, and stronger than mine. I can see exposed muscles and sinew, bones jutting out through gaping holes in its body. Its neck and back are covered in burnt hair like fire had tried to eat away its hide. The tail I can't make much sense of-mostly because I can't conceive of something called a 'tail'-but it is long, spiky, matted in places. It makes the whole thing seem too long to be able to move with any speed.

But the teeth...I know them well. They are just like mine. Broken, jagged, and covered in something red and human-smelling… And there are far more of them than I have. Two rows, sharp and menacing, hidden behind shredded lips and a mutilated tongue. Even before the pungent smell blows in my direction, I know the thing is dead, yet living.

Like me.

It takes its focus off the human for a moment and points its head in my direction, seemingly aware of my presence for the first time.

This is the moment I take back that earlier desire to be noticed by someone...

There's a loud snort and a wheezing sound as the creature sucks in the air through its nose. It pauses for a long moment before its split lips peel further up over its large teeth. Now I'm better at recognizing basic facial expressions than doing them myself. Zombies don't have a need for them. We only have our rage face and our catatonic face.

And yet, I'm pretty sure this thing is grinning at me right now.

I can't do anything but stare blankly as it covers the distance between us in two long strides. The saliva dripping from its jaws makes a hissing sound as it smacks steadily against the pavement. The human is already screaming and dragging its legs in my direction. I'd never thought I would see the day I lost interest in a meal, but I daresay this towering presence has gained my full attention.

A growl reverberates deep inside its chest that shakes the very ground beneath us. I finally break my gaze from the thing as something tight clamps around my ankle. The prey is still screaming and trying to pull himself towards me. The stench of fear is so thick in the air it should have already driven me into a feeding frenzy. But in this split second I find myself extending my hand to this wide-eyed, panicked, food item that is pleading for help. I can't comprehend why. Maybe its so I can eat him later. Or maybe...maybe I want to save him from the fate that is looming over both of us.

He sees my hand and reaches further. Fingertips barely make contact with my own before he's ripped away with a wet crunch and a choked wail. He's finished in a shower of blood, a cut off cry, and a lick of a thick tongue over the creature's lips. There's absolutely nothing left of him...save for the head that rolls haplessly to my feet.

Oh well. I shouldn't let that go to waste.

I reach down, curling my fingers into the slick, wet hair. A blunt force sends me flying backwards. The stars come into my view again as I greet the hard pavement with the flat of my back.

That view is suddenly darkened by the dripping maw that hangs over me. I watch as it's mouth stretches impossibly wide again. This might actually be a good time for me to express my fear of this thing. Only, I don't have any. I have no concept of that emotion. I might be able to smell it, even taste it on my tongue sometimes, but I lack the cognitive function to feel it. My only instinct right now is to stake my claim on this scrap of food and be done with it.

So I tighten my grip, bare my teeth and scream at the creature with all of the vehemence I can muster. It's enough to make it's lips slip back over those glistening daggers and, for a moment, I think I've claimed my prize.

Until a large foot presses down on the center of my chest and pins me against the ground. There's a crunching sound as some of my ribs snap beneath its weight. Long claws tear into my shirt when the head looms closer now and, for the first time, I get a good look into the hollows of its eyes. There's a yellow glow nestled deep in the empty sockets. They burn like the fire that sprouted from the shiny rectangle in the airport. Only the fire isn't flickering. It's swirling like two raging infernos and they are boring into my skull, daring me to make another move. It spares a moments glance at the human's head before it turns back to me and shows its teeth again. I'm not sure what it is that makes me give in and surrender, but something in my brain tells me that this is a fight I'm not going to win. My grip loosens, though I refuse to look away from the creature. I may be surrendering, but I refuse to submit.

Casually, it reaches over, delicately plucking it from my hand and using its tongue to roll it into a secure position between its teeth. The jaws barely close before the skull cracks and explodes inside its mouth. I'm hit with another spray of blood as I'm forced to listen to the sounds of its smacking lips as it devours every last morsel. I can see the tendons and muscles working in its exposed neck as it swallows. There isn't one shred of food left now, and if I didn't think that there wasn't going to be a shred of me left after this I might have been pretty pissed off about it.

With a final lick of its revolting tongue, it focuses its attention back to me. There's another growl that rumbles deep in its throat before it unleashes a deafening roar that explodes in my ears while the force of its rotting breath barrels down on me. Putrid phlegm lands against my face and neck. The creature leans in closer, teeth nearly touching my neck. As I look into the spiraling chaos of its eyes, a single unspoken word echoes in my ears.

"Mine!"

Wait, what? Who said that? Did...did that thing just speak to me? It felt like… like it was inside my head somehow. There are no voices allowed in my head besides my own damn it! The word repeats itself again. It feels like something is crawling inside my ear and burrowing into my brain.

"Mine."

A chorus of wailing sounds from far away build in intensity and cut through the night air around us. The creature perks up at the noise. Its massive head lifts to look over its shoulder. It glances back at me and presses its weight down onto my chest again, once more issuing another crack of protest from one of my ribs. The crooked teeth clack together just inches above my face and, with one final threatening look and an authoritative snort, it steps off of me and vanishes into the dark.

Well today has certainly been...different.

This is what I wanted though right?

I'm pretty sure this whole series of events has ruined me from wanting more out of life ever again.

With some effort, I manage to roll over and push myself up on my hands and knees. Something wet squishes beneath my palm. I close my fist around it and bring it to my nose for inspection. A small chunk of human brain lies draped over my fingertips. Looks like big and bony missed a crumb. A soft groan gurgles up from my throat as I think that maybe this day might be saved after all.

I slip it into my jacket pocket for future enjoyment as I stumble to my feet and begin my slow shuffle towards home. My home is an airplane. A small jet, an Embraer 170 to be exact. How do I know? Well... I ate the pilot. As I mentioned before, human brains help fill the empty voids in our heads. They're our tools for learning objects, mechanics, sights, and sounds. I can touch things around the plane and the airport and trigger his memories to absorb his knowledge of the things he was familiar with. I even know some things about aviation. I could probably fly the thing if I had any sort of hand-eye coordination.

But rest assured I do not.

Perhaps the best thing about eating them is those few blissful moments when I see what it was like to be alive...to feel alive through their memories. The brain is full of memories and emotions. Proof of a life that has been lived. I never sleep, and even if I could, the dead don't dream. Eating a brain is like dreaming, and for a few fleeting moments, I'm human again. Its a small glimpse of the world through someone else's eyes. Its not always happy. Sometimes its angry. Sometimes its sad. It doesn't matter though, because it's the closest I will ever be to living again.

I finally make it up the last step of the staircase to the entrance and open the hatch. This is the first time I've managed to get up here since the snows stopped. I fumble around until I find the switch on the panel that turns on the lights. They flicker and hum as the cabin dimly brightens in front of me. Everything looks just the way I left it. I drag my feet to the back of the plane where I keep all of my treasures. I pull the shiny rectangle from my pocket and drop it in a small box that sits under a makeshift table I made of broken seats. On top of the seats rests my most prized possession. A record player. I can't really remember how it came to me, or where I got it, but I don't really care about that. Though I do wonder sometimes how I even know what music is. I recognize the instruments and I know the different sounds they make. Did I eat someone for that or was it pushed out of the undead womb already with me?

I have no idea.

Mostly I just know that I like it, and even if I can't connect to anyone around me, there's some part of me that connects with it.

I flip the switch on the turntable and move the needle to the groove of the record that's already on it before I make my way back down the aisle to slump into a vacant seat. The ceiling comes into view as I press a button to recline back. Then the music begins to play.

"As I walk this land of broken dreams,"

My fingers wrap around the small hunk in my pocket in anticipation. I hope whatever memory that's hidden in there was worth the work. I finally bring it up to my mouth.

"I have visions of many things."

I close my eyes as it slips passed my lips and I begin to chew. The first sensation I feel is a flash of light and a series of colors, unfamiliar sounds, and scents.

"But happiness is just an illusion."

This all comes to a screeching halt as I begin to fill with feelings of pain, horror, and grief. The teeth inside of a giant mouth crushes my bones and rips my limbs away from my body, while a massive tongue pushes me down a ragged gullet. Blood fills my lungs and I'm drowning in a pool of my own shredded organs, swirling endlessly into a black pit void of all hope. A monster. I'm being eaten by a monster.

"Filled with sadness and confusion."

I hurl myself up from the chair in a choking fit, spitting the remnants out onto the floor. Well that was definitely a memory I could have done without. What's a monster? I need to tell K about that thing tomorrow...if I don't forget.

"What becomes of the brokenhearted,"

"Who had love that's now departed?"

"I know I've got to find."

"Some kind of peace of mind."

"Maybe."

Maybe I should leave out the part where I actually tried to help my food.