Theme/Genre:
Supernatural, Horror with Dark Humor, a touch of Romance, and overall morbid. What can I say? I like writing those subjects. They come to me naturally…

Author note:
I've been suggested to write something more original. To write something that isn't a common formula, an overused theme, or a repeat of our beloved movie. So here I am, giving originality a try but most likely failing at it. So please leave a review if you are interested in reading more! Despite English not being my 'mother tongue', I do try my best to write as smoothly as I can but I know flaws will happen. Still, don't be afraid to give it to me straight with your thoughts on the matter~

|CHAPTER ONE: GOODBYE OLD, HELLO NEW|

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins?"

—Edgar Allan Poe, "The Premature Burial"

Hello, my name is Kimberly Nicole Lyons and I died three months ago. I didn't go out with a bang by playing the hero card either. You know, by sacrificing myself like you see in a movie or read in a book by saving somebody's life? It wasn't because it was 'my time' either. No, I died at the hands of a murderer. I didn't ask for it, of course, because who in their right mind would ask to be killed? No one. Hell, I didn't even see it coming. I was living a perfectly normal life. I had friends, a pleasant family with a newly added younger brother, our family dog Pete, and even a boyfriend of two years. My life was just beginning; in just two more months I would be graduating high school, enjoying a summer vacation like no other, all before flying off to college on a full scholarship. Yeah… I had what I believed to be the perfect life up until that day where I was minding my own business, walking home late from a school pep rally. I was grabbed from behind, dragged away, tortured, and then left for dead in the middle of the Klamath River. No warning, no foreshadowing; just suddenly killed by a stranger.

The thing is... is I didn't stay dead.

No, I didn't survive the incident. You heard me right. I am one hundred percent certain that I died that night out there in the middle of the water. Discarded like a rotten bag of food in hopes that my body will never be found as a rock held me down under the surface. I still remember feeling weak and cold, tired from the relentless beatings and forceful use of my body. I had no energy to fight as I stared up at the beautiful night sky deluded by the rippling cover above me. I watched until I could no longer see. My body filled with water, lungs giving out, bubbles bursting from my lips until there was no more oxygen to release. Yes, I died. There's no doubt about it.

For a period there, all I could make out was darkness as I floated weightlessly among it. No stress, no anger or sadness, just me in this black veil of peace. I felt... nothing there.

At some point, not too long after I was abandoned to be forgotten, the rope must have slipped from around my ankle. Allowing my body to drift to the shore on an easy current. That's where I woke up, half emerged in water as if I was asleep or just closed my eyes for some quick 'shut-eye.' I just opened them and I was awake. I laid there in a daze for what felt like hours but could only have been a matter of minutes, just staring up at the sky with my mind blank. Slowly I began to function and as soon as I could blink again and focus on the stars above, my body convulsed and the water spilled out, making me feel lighter as the liquid escaped my body.

It didn't take me long to realize I was not the same person that I woke up as that morning. In fact, I noticed it as soon as I stood up and peered around me that I felt... different. For starters, the world was oddly silent and my body no longer felt the pain or the cold for that matter. There was no beating, no pit-pat of rhythmic noise in my ears pulsing with blood, and the abnormality of that is really weird to digest. It was then I realized I no longer had a heartbeat nor did my muscles feel fatigued or sore or anything. The shock upon realizing that you are 'alive' without actually being 'alive', well what we consider alive in the sense of a heart beating, is completely dumbfounding. Yet, I couldn't just run off to the hospital and ask for a check-up; charging in screaming that my heart isn't beating wasn't really an option. Yeah, I couldn't see that going over well... but yet, at the same time, I didn't run around the riverbank like a chicken with its head cut off. I stood there, all wide-eyed and breathless as my mind wracked over itself to come up with something logical, that's for sure. But in the end, like I've come to try and explain to you, I was dead.

That's what it all came down to.

I no longer needed to breathe, I no longer felt pain, I no longer had a heartbeat, and I no longer felt weighed down by a freight train of emotions. Now, I still had emotions, clearly, but I could control it—if that made sense. I just felt 'clear.' It was as if I could think with ease, and though I wasn't 'alive,' I felt full of energy. All in all, I was now something akin to the undead. It took me a little while to figure out what exactly to label myself as, but if you wanted to properly categorize me, I'd say I had become a zombie. Yes, I am a zombie. The difference in the media stylized zombie compared to me is that I don't deteriorate, walk around brainless with only my gut telling me what to do, or live off of brains for that matter. I walk and talk just like any other person. I have the ability to function just like you. The only downside is the need to feed on flesh aside from the mundane meals you would eat.

I learned that the hard way...

With my death I was reborn, but with my rebirth, I had a decision to make. That's what I was confronted with: a decision that I didn't know about until I was forced to make it. No one wants to eat their family or best friends or favorite furry companion. Yes, you guessed it, like an idiot I tried to go back to my life as if I could fool the world into believing that everything was okay. That I was okay and it took barely forty-eight hours to realize that I was indeed, not okay.

After almost succeeding in tearing my beloved boyfriend's face right off during a heated make-out session, believe me, it was like I was not in control of myself, I knew something was wrong. When I sniffed out my younger brother, age four mind you, and had the most disgusting thoughts you can imagine about eating him, I knew then that I had to get away. Even after packing my bag to sneak outside to run off and become a runaway, I almost attacked Pete our black Labrador, as if he was a fast food meal to grab and go. I personally knew deep down despite my current fascination with fresh meat, that I'd never would want to endanger anybody that I held dear so I made that decision.

The decision to disappear.

Now, where is the best place to disappear when you have to kill to survive? Why the Murder Capital of the World, duh! That seemed logical to me anyway and so that is what I did. I hitchhiked all the way from Northern California, away from my sweet hometown and the place that killed me, to the southern peak of Santa Carla. At least there I knew I could start a new life. Not a life most would want to live, I assume, but it was my life now. I mean, I'm not ready to go up to someone and hand them a sharp object and be like; 'End me, I'm the undead', cue bad music. Of course, I'm just basing that off of movies but I think that I would need to be beheaded or at least stabbed through the brain for that to work. Honestly, I am not really down for that…

So now I am a little over two months into living this new life by the beach. I have a small apartment, I work a two to nine even, and I have figured out a routine that works best for my 'diet'. To the best of my capability, I do not attack people. That is if I can help it but yet, at the same time, I cannot live entirely off of packaged meat. So with that news, I do attack animals but I do not go after pets. I overall try to avoid any animals that mingle with people because, personally, I would not want someone to eat my pet. Instead, like a distant relative from a different time period, I hunt. I hunt mainly small game like rabbits and bore but sometimes I catch a deer, with luck mind you, then I take them home where I store them properly to live off them for as long as I can until I have to hunt again. That has been my life for the last eighty days or so. A completely different life to the old Kimberly Nicole Lyons but one I have come to accept.

By the way, when I moved to Santa Carla I never knew I'd meet something supernatural like me. Sure, this is the Murder Capital of the World but I thought it was based on something entirely different. A serial killer perhaps or a long time running sex trafficking business. Something like that rather than otherworldly beings similar to myself but boy was I wrong. Well, sort of. Don't let me misguide you, there are human beings doing their fair share of wrongs in this town but they are not the only ones. The day I met the pack of boys that really ran the shadows of this place is when I thought, my already fucked up life that could not become any more fucked up, did. It didn't help that it was all by complete accident that we stumbled upon one another but I guess fate has that silly way of functioning. I mean, fate decided to make me what I am today and I am still uncertain how that really came to be.

After all, I don't think zombie runs in my family genetics.

Anyways, this is where the story really begins because it is not about how I became a creature of the undead, but how I am managing my life since the incident. How four boys taught me in a single night that this is not only my safe haven but as well as their territory. It is also the night they learned that you can't kill something that is already dead and boy, were they in for a surprise!

But so was I...

The heat of the stove top sizzled beneath the meat of the hamburger. The juices bubbling away as the solid black spatula applied more pressure, squishing it further. Soon the edges began to darken and with a flick of the wrist, the hand wielding the spatula flipped it over. One by one, the lineup of patties were turned to repeat the process. The crackling sound filtering through the air to mingle with the fan noise above that roared with life. The smell floating among everything as they cooked, wafting a delicious aroma. With a mental tick, an inner clock keeping track, Kimberly twisted in her spot to pull out three sets of buns. After buttering them up she applied them to the stove as well. Within minutes she removed them, dressed them as per ordered, and then topped it off by placing the meat between the toasted buns.

With a clink, the dish was presented to the window. "Order up!"

"I got it!" A waitress called out before the dish slid off the shelf. With its disappearance came another ticket order.

"They never stop coming do they?" A rather lean young man with short brown hair asked as he stepped up to retrieve the ticket, reading off the abbreviation that the entire waitress staff used. Johnny was his name, a new recruit to Santa Carla Diner, the typical teenager looking for some extra hard earned cash during the summer months.

Kimberly could remember a time like that when she used to apply for jobs back home. Before she had to worry about graduation and maintaining a job to make ends meet, it was just extra cash to buy what felt important to her at the time. Now she flipped burgers for a living to keep a roof over her head and water running. If that life-changing incident never happened she would have been living it up right now. Not even batting her eyes at a café but rather partying with friends before flying off to college.

Kimberly tossed in her own input while pulling out the bin that already contained diced up potato mush for hash browns, "Yeah, but you'll adjust. It just takes some time to get into the rhythm of things." She scooped out at least a hand full with her spatula and applied the hash browns to the stove.

Johnny leaned over the stove top and applied the weights to the mounds. "Oh? How long did it take you?"

"A week tops really but it wasn't my first time cooking at a place like this. Though, the menu here has a lot to offer compared to my first café job." came the easy reply.

Next, Kimberly cleared the area the hamburger meat once sat upon before applying the sausage patties, bacon, and lastly the over-medium eggs. Two months in and it was like she ran the kitchen. Of course, being what she is helped a lot. She didn't feel the stress that rush hour often brought nor did she need a break. When ticket stacked up she just did her job one step at a time. Jokes about her being a robot twirled around the work environment at times but Kimberly was not about to inform them of the truth. Deciding that allowing them to think she's some kind of well-oiled machine is way better than thinking she's some brain-eating monster.

Brains didn't even taste that good, to begin with...

"Man, I don't know how you do it." The kid spoke while tearing down another ticket order, eyes scanning it over. It was nearing dinner so the second rush hour of the day was just around the corner even for a breakfast-all-day sort of joint. "Got a ham omelet with grits."

"Got it," Kimberly announced while plating the previous order and handing it off to him to handle as she fixed up the next order. "And like I said, it just takes time. You'll find that rhythm and before you know it," She spoke while breaking the two eggs and stirring the yolks together. "You'll be a champ at it just like me." It was a statement, some words of encouragement for the kid. If anyone practiced at something they'd eventually get the hang of it. That was just logical sense.

"Hey, Kimmy," A feminine voice called out while whirling around the corner from the hallway, wavy black hair dancing with volume. The hallway being the connection point to where the front met the back, basically the walkway that the dishwasher used. "You wanna come with me and the girls to a party tonight? It's gonna be rad!"

Another party, another boring activity in Kimberly's opinion. Yet somehow Janet has never given up on her poor friend Kimberly who obviously if she had a say in the matter needed more fun in her life.

Kimberly rolled her eyes as she carefully folded the omelet and gracefully dished it up on the plate. "Nah, I rather not Jay," She verbally answered while handing the plate off to Johnny so he can slap some grits on it and call it good.

This didn't deter Janet, not one bit. "Oh, com'on, please Kim? It won't be like last time." At this point the brunette was standing on the other side of the counter, elbows propping up her weight as she eagerly tried to coax Kimberly to comply. Puppy-dog eyes and everything.

Janet's words struck an interest in Johnny and he turned to face the duo, an eyebrow lifted with curiosity. "Like last time, huh? What happened last time?"

"You don't wanna know, kid." Kimberly quickly spoke up with little amusement in her tone before Janet could fill him in on the embarrassing adventure that was, by her recollection, forced on her. The first time she accepted an outing with Janet to be exact and just so happen to be the last one too. Thanks to that shameful incident Janet had yet to get Kimberly out on the boardwalk to 'have fun' since. Not like Kimberly really wanted to partake in any outing, to begin with.

At this Janet playfully rolled her eyes before standing up straight, "Not every man out there is like Scott, ya'know? You gotta' live a little, Kim."

Before Johnny could attempt to ask another question, the bell tolled at the front door and a family of six poured in. Dinner rush had begun.

Kimberly tugged the back door shut, pocketing the keys after making sure the door was secure. It was ten minutes before eleven and the boardwalk nearby was still bustling with life. The long summer nights happily expanding for the eager kid and adult alike. Oh, how nice it would be to live such a free-spirited life again, came a thought while laughter reached her. It was melodic with a few excited screams mixed with it. She turned away from the now closed restaurant. Stop thinking silly thoughts that only silly people would think, came the scolding. Because living a free-spirited life, being blind to what really goes on around you, was a childish dream to her now. Something untameable.

"Kimmy!" Janet called in sync to jumping forward from around the corner in a sad attempt to try and scare her. Yet in the past, Kimberly would have jumped ten feet into the air with a yelp of surprise. However, now she just blinked at the beaming expression on her co-worker's face which slowly morphed into disappointment. "Oh don't give me that look."

"What look?" came the smooth reply as she tried to step around Janet.

Janet swiftly side-stepped the action, securing her spot in front of her co-worker again. "Oh, you know what look."

This only made her sigh with frustration. It wasn't like Kimberly was stupid. She knew why the woman stood before her and why she deliberately chose to wait for her: It was about the party.

She decided to nip it in the butt now before the question could arise again, "I'm not going." Her voice was final.

"Ah, but seriously, Kim," Janet whined with hands taking the initiative to gently take hold of Kimberly's biceps, squeezing. Trying to encourage. "It won't kill you to loosen up. It's been over a month now. Just, I mean," she was stumbling all over herself on trying to figure out how to coax her friend into saying yes.

Kimberly's defiant stare softened. It was clear that Janet really wanted her to go for some reason and maybe for a serious cause though she honestly doubted that.

With another sigh, this time it was one of defeat, Kimberly voiced her concern. "What's really going on, Janet?"

This caused Janet's blue eyes to lower shamefully, a pout pulling at her lips. "Honestly," she began. "Amy ditched me and I'd really rather not go to a beach party alone."

"What about Danny?"

"He's a guy."

"So?"

Janet clicked her tongue with agitation before saying her next words slowly. As if English was Kimberly second language, not first. "I need a chick friend with me, Kim. Not just some guy-pal." Danny wasn't just some 'guy-pal' if you asked her but whatever.

Yet she knew she'd regret this simply on the fact that get-together's like bonfire parties became messy. Intoxicated people grew into handsy people and ballsy guys convert into 'Scotty's' in the end. However, Janet was clearly playing the desperate card. Practically begging her without directly doing so. So maybe it was something similar to pity that she was beginning to feel for her co-worker, a friend in a sense. One who stood before her with such a pleading expression too. Or maybe it was something completely different. Something festering to get out, to be free again. A desire to participate in something wild.

"Fine." It was drawn out. Hardly any sign of excitement in her voice but despite that, Janet's tan hand flew to her pale one. The joy radiating from her being enough for the both of them.

"Finally! Com'on, I'll give you a ride."

Then they were off with Janet towing Kimberly to the nearest parking lot. If only she had stood her ground that night then maybe, just maybe, Janet would have been alive today.

End note:
This is basically a prologue with the first portion of the 1st chapter thrown in to give a tease. So honestly, what you think so far? Want to read more?