Sacred 2:A Zombie's Diary
From the New Books
A Zombie's Diary
Dear Diary,
While I am writing these lines, I am dead. Well, technically speaking, that is. They came late last night and razed our village. I can't remember any details. All I know is I tried to find cover in the copse behind the house. They caught me anyway. When I woke this morning, I felt empty, tired and exhausted. At first, I thought it was just a bad dream. However, when I went to wash and looked at my face in the mirror, I knew what had happened. I am an undead. A zombie. One of those creatures that are hunted by adventurers all over Ancaria for a few coppers.
My heart is not beating any more, the blood does not flow in my veins, my skin is leathery and of an unhealthy color. I don't feel pain or fear or rage. Could it be my nerves have shut down, as well!
I do, however, have my ravenous appetite for brain under control. It was difficult at first. Sometimes, in the first few days, I could not stop myself. Strange, really, since it doesn't taste of anything. Or maybe I can't taste anything. Or both. But I have a grip on myself by now, thank the gods. I can stop whenever I want.
Dear Diary,
Things have changed since the night I became a zombie. Nothing is like once was. Luckily, the other villagers have turned into zombies, as well. This makes things easier, because we can discuss our problems and needs with each other. Some even thought about establishing a self-help group. A single meeting where everybody can talk about his or her problem. I am not sure I would attend. I do feel a little ashamed of my condition.
Dear Diary,
More weeks have passed. It is strange how quickly one can get used to being immortal. Of course, things still have to settle down. You must get used to peel off the worms from your skin every other day, for example. If you don't, they will dig themselves in and leave unsightly bumps on your skin, not to mention the holes when they hatch as flies.
The self-help group for undead has been brought to life (stupid pun, I know, but so what! You are just a diary and don't understand any of what I am writing anyway.) Maybe I'll attend one of the meetings again next week.
Dear Diary,
I can't get over what happened to me today! A few hours ago, a few zombies from the neighbouring village came over, and wanted to know how last night's attack had gone. When I told them we couldn't hold back the attackers and had been overrun, they asked if I had been alone and where the OTHER men of the village had hidden! The OTHERS! They thought I was a MAN!!! Well, I admit that my body has collapsed somewhat and my skin cannot be compared to that of a rose coloured peach any more. But still, it should have been OBVIOUS to them, that I am a woman! Or should it!
The self-help group will meet again the day after tomorrow, I will attend this time!
Dear Diary,
The first meeting of the zombie self-help group was horrible. We sat in a circle and had to introduce ourselves to the others. When it was my turn, everyone said "hello Amania" to me after I was finished with the introduction. And then they talked about what bothered them. The shepherd complained that his sheep would rip open each other's heads to feed on the brains. The village elder lost his arm in the most recent attack by the flying eyes and can't hold his cane and smoke at the same time anymore. I felt so out of place! Then I told them about the other villagers, and they had mistaken me for a man. At first, there was an embarrassed silence. And then everybody started laughed! It was so embarrassing!
Dear Diary,
Today, mother, who lives in a neighbouring village, came over for a visit and things came to a head. I only told her she was looking well and had not changed much since our last meeting. I had just meant to say something nice to break awkward silence after the initial greeting!
Mother left in a huff immediately. Why do things like that always happen to me!
Dear Diary,
Today I found a stray flying eye. At first, I thought we were being attacked again by these monsters. But when it didn't attack me and hovered in front of me, looking at me with its large sad eye instead, I couldn't keep from caressing its eyelid. It has followed me ever since and does not want to leave my side. I named it "Blinky"
Dear Diary,
Blinky has been with me over two months now. He is sooo cute! Every time I go to bed, he settles down on the bedpost at the foot of the bed and waits until I get up again. Okay, it was a bit strange at first to look into a big eye as soon as I opened mine. But then I had an idea, I just cover him with a blanket at night.
Dear Diary,
I taught Blinky to fetch. Well… he can't retrieve the stick, of course, since he doesn't have a muzzle. But every time I throw it, he flies after the stick and stares at it until I come to pick it up, isn't he great!
Dear Diary,
Life as a zombie, isn't easy. People say that time stands still for a zombie. Days become weeks become months become years. You begin to lose track. Is it summer! Or winter! Hadn't it just been summer! I don't know how long we've been zombies now. Some villagers tried to count the days. They made notches in the edge of a table or tried to mark the days with pebbles. But even they stopped trying and resigned themselves to the fact time doesn't count anymore.
There is nothing to talk about any more after all this time, either. And the little that bothers me, I share only with Blinky, because Blinky is my friend. And more importantly, he won't tell anybody.
But sometimes – especially at night, when I look up at the stars – I wish I wasn't a zombie anymore. I wish I was back in my old life when time still mattered. When I could feel, when I could dream.
Why am I writing all this! Oh – I don't know…
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