Dying?
It was weird.
Very weird.
You could even call it strange.
But coming back to life after I died?
As a zombie?
Yeah… that was even weirder.
--
Maes didn't know how he came back to life, or why, but it wasn't long before he realized that what he had come back to couldn't accurately be called life – it was more of a slobbering, revenge-laden blood fest that consisted mainly of him lumbering around Central at night and feeding on whatever small animals he came across.
While most of his higher mental facilities had vanished – the part that processed varied perspectives on the world and gave him the ability to be called a human – he did retain some of them. He couldn't bring himself to feed on humans, for example; he had tried the first night and met with disastrous consequences and the piercingly loud screams of the petite woman he had in his grip.
He had thought maybe he could get past that, eat her quickly enough and quell the screams, but when her husband came up behind him, doused him with lighter fluid and set him on fire, Maes decided maybe humans weren't the way to go.
It had taken him forever to get all the ashes out of his hair. Once he dropped the woman and retreated to a safe corner he spent the next three hours plucking gritty black piece of burnt clothing by gritty black piece of burnt clothing from his precious locks. Being set on fire didn't really bother him – it was startling, to be sure, but it didn't hurt. The flames were kind of nice, actually. Warmed his skin.
It was just those damn ashes … they stuck to everything and were impossible to get out. It was then he decided to set one of his first goals - avoid all ashes. Which, of course, meant no more forays into attempting to eat women who had husbands with lighter fluid and lighters; but since it was impossible for him to tell who might have been in possession of those materials, he had to give up the entire species.
But that was okay, actually, because he discovered rather quickly that cockroaches tasted pretty damn good. Especially the ones that had bits of mold or fungus on their feet, it added a nice tangy taste to the crunch of their shells.
A life filled with good food and free of ashes – it was pretty much all Maes could ask for. But then… then he remembered why he had died. Who it was that had killed him. And Maes realized that even if the puny homunculus was in possession of lighter fluid and a lighter, he would brave the horrible little pieces of burnt material to get his revenge.
After he feasted on a few more cockroach brains.