Darkside: Waking the Dead
By S.K.S. Perry
Copyright 2011 S.K.S. Perry
Don't you just hate it when people won't stay dead? I know that must make me sound like somewhat of a hypocrite, me being deceased and all, but at least I'm not one of those rotting, moldy corpse, fresh-from-the-grave-and-out-of-the-coffin, stumble-around-sucking-the-life-force-out-of-the-living type dead guys. Let's face it, zombies are a dime a dozen, and rock bottom of the social hierarchy, even among the Other Realm folk.
I, on the other hand, am an Eternal, one of only seven in existence. Of course you'd never know it to look at me. I'm just an average looking Joe, although I am pretty buff, and have minty fresh breath.
It's not like I'm a racist, either. Most of my friends are living-impaired. My girlfriend is a vampire-slash-faerie, and is possessed by the spirit of my dead fiancée--don't ask--and my dad and grandpa are both ghosts, and drop by occasionally to chat. Even my dog is dead, and is more of a nuisance than he was when he was alive. He just smells better now.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, things not staying dead.
It was a cold, clear November evening, and Leanne and I strolled down Princess Street, window-shopping. Neither of us really minded the cold much, but we bundled up in our coats and scarves anyway just to keep up appearances. There wasn't any snow yet, but then that's Kingston for you. It might be January before we saw snowfall, or there could be two feet of the stuff blanketing the city before morning.