In the light, she (the ghost) can imagine that all is well (satisfactory, fine, alright or any other bland and banal word that can pass for "pretending to be good") and in accordance with the law time. It's when the sun begins to set and the moon embarks on its journey to rise, that worry invades her mind. This uneasiness starts as an irritation, an itch that cannot be reached (an unquenchable thirst). Gradually, this unease expands and mutates, fueled by anxiety and fear.


As she sleeps there might be stillness, maybe even calm. There may also be zombies, especially one in particular.

If you want to kill the ______, ignore it.

my dear Ghost
it is time to admit

that the scab you continue to pick, re-open and make bleed will never heal until you cease
leave it alone and let it be
that scab cannot hurt you, but the scar will remind
you can only hurt yourself, Ghost

Zombie = Scab
Scab = Nonentity

insignificance is what this zombie’s edifice embodies
the presence is without importance because the Ghost says it is so
and so it is

Zombie = Nothing

chaos seeking (zombie) junkies are neither nice nor pure
go away
you lose

+ + + + + + +

revenge filled ghosts only punish themselves
forgive him
ignore her

+ + + + + + +

repentant vampires atone for transgressions
relish in the bliss
of a crisis averted

once order has been restored

dracula sees the ghost (deepened and evolving)
sheltered inside his strong arms, she safe and he is sure
transformative newness intrigues and entices
desire for fantasy diminishes (baby, it’s obliterated)
this reality is a sensory explosion
and
__they
____both
_______just
_________want
____________more

zombie is the home wrecking whore
the ghost is a wife

so who is the fool now?

You broke all the rules and the rules burned you

Transparent zombies can only feign innocence for so long (do-wop, do-wop)
This ghost recognizes your game (better now than ever before)
Crying wolf over the milk you spilt is desperate (and sad)
Lesson learned maybe (maybe not)

Take pleasure in your self pity (drink it up, every little drop)
That's all you’ll get (no one else here has any for you)
You don’t deserve it (and you know it)

A selfish zombie is a thief. She doesn’t care what he thinks unless it’s about her.
Without empathy, the underworld is a solitary island.

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?

They met in a dark bar found in the seedy side of underworld. The ghost wore white and the zombie masked the scent of its rotting flesh with (what smelled like) a gallon of cheap cologne. The ghost mildly appreciated the effort, but mostly excused it because the zombie was mysterious and exciting (in all the wrong kinds of ways).

The pale flesh of the ghost’s cheek flushed as she drank and she was over taken with a dizzy lightheadedness. The zombie’s language became a stream of nonsensical words bound together with anticipation and intrigue. Hundreds of tiny strung multi-colored lights illuminated a halo around the unlikely couple and as intoxication consumed the ghost, the lights blurred, confusing and constraining any vision.

She shuts her eyes for the briefest of moments to catch her breath and steal a second of simple quiet. Before her was an open mouthed, tooth exposed zombie lurching forward. The ghost pulls back with a flinch and the zombie proposes, “Just let me take a little nibble, I promise it won’t hurt too much.”

Shocked and appalled, the ghost declined with a vicious force. With her back against the wall and a fearful breathlessness she watched the zombie slink closer and closer. It stood before her, filled with an irrational frustration and a desire to devour. All signs pointed to a fate in which the ghost was to be a meal (one of many, she was sure). She gasped and braced herself waiting for the first bite, (but nothing). Slightly confused, she felt a slight respite, until the zombie’s hand flew through the air and made hard contact with her face.

Stinging and burning spread across her cheek as she realized that not only did that fucking zombie slap her, but it was the first thing she had actually felt in months.

Not eaten, just publicly humiliated.

he hit me
and it felt like a kiss
he hit me
and i knew he loved me
if he didn’t care for me
i could have never made him mad
but he hit me
and i was glad

The ghost came to. That fucking zombie was clawing at her throat (again).
Scratch marks from the last attack hadn't even healed yet.
This was a test (and the ghost doesn't like being tested).

If she fails, there is always summer school.

I'm not your brunch, bitch

The zombie was devouring the ghost. The weight of its dead flesh pressed down and compressed the ghost deep into the ground. She was being consumed in body, but in spirit she still had some fight.

The zombie could rob the tangible (tissue, muscle, bone). It couldn't steal her soul. That belonged to the ghost.

It was her soul (heartless chest cavity)
and
hers
alone

to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die

although this wasn’t uncharted territory, dracula found himself in the midst of a love triangle. he had been in this situation before (at least 100 years ago) and knew the trouble he was headed for.

he met the unicorn in his undead youth. he was fascinated with her and they both fell hard and fast. she didn’t mind that he wasn’t technically alive and he was familiar with the supernatural. it was the most innocent and settled he had felt in many centuries. he was content. the unicorn softened dracula’s rough edges. she really knew him. they were at home with the comfort they shared. secretly, they were blissfully happy.

a decade had passed, their love constant and consistent. the same, not entirely ever-changing. dracula felt a restlessness rising. the unicorn felt it too. frightened, she ignored it (or maybe just pretended that she didn’t see it). “this will pass,” she prayed.

dracula started to talk about the new zombie at the office, a lot. the unicorn saw a light in his eyes that once burned only for her. she was supportive, but suspicious. but in reality, the unicorn knew she was fucked.

because everyone knows that zombies can’t resist unicorn flesh and sooner or later, the unicorn would be dinner.