Death. Darkness. Ralph’s entire world revolved around those two things. It had always been so, and he saw no reason to believe it would ever be otherwise. And yet, he expected more. He needed more. There had to be something beyond the corpse stench, the eternal night filling everything. Hadn’t there been more, once… before?
Before what? He shook his head. If this had always been, how could there be a before? Ralph hammered a fist in frustration. A muffled thud answered. Shouldn’t that hurt? But what did it mean to hurt? Memory stirred, rose and sank beneath dark waves, offering only a bright glimpse of a brown-haired woman weeping at his side. He clutched his chest and nodded. That flare of remembered agony. That was pain.
Who was the woman?
He growled and tried to lash out. Questions provided their own pain. They droned and needled incessantly, but nothing he did could drive them away.
Something kept him from venting his anger. Every blow landed on a soft, yielding surface that boxed him in on every side. His hard-soled shoes drummed top and bottom. His fists beat a steady tattoo to either side. Even his head knocked on something when he tried to sit up. No matter how hard he struck, it failed to yield more than a soft thud. He tried to weep, but no tears came.
Vanessa cried enough for us both.
He twitched at the thought. Vanessa… was that the woman? It felt right. Another memory surfaced. The woman–Vanessa–sobbing and begging: “Don’t leave me, Ralph. Never leave me.”
He could hear his own voice, frail and barely audible: “I won’t.”
That vow burned through him. It spoke of a world beyond the darkness. It promised him more. If only he could reach her.
Roaring, Ralph rammed both feet against the top of his prison. It refused to budge. He struck it again. Again. Again. The wall creaked. He rained blow after blow until wood splintered and shattered. Flesh tore under the onslaught, but he didn’t care. He felt no pain. Indeed, he felt little beyond a growing need to be out in whatever world existed beyond this box. And underneath the panic, hunger.
He found dirt. It poured inside. He clawed his way through thick, gooey earth, frantic to climb free. Hunger and alarm grew with every stroke. Vanessa’s tear-streaked face filled his vision. She begged him over and over again not to leave her. She needed him. He’d promised. So he dug.
His right hand broke through first, followed by his left. He emerged and looked around. He had never dreamed of such space. A bright circle overhead spread silver light over an otherwise darkened world. Stone crucifixes and other markers surrounded him. Ralph climbed unsteadily to his feet. Now freed, hunger gnawed at him, driving him forward. His steps hurried. He stumbled over tree roots and headstones, but he had to keep moving.
Vanessa needed him. And he needed her.
Jeff Parish is a 30-something native Texan. He and his wife have a girl and two boys. He started writing in middle school, where he concentrated mostly on (bad) fantasy tales and (even worse) poetry. His writing skills developed over time, much to his delight and the relief of everyone he forced to read his work, and he gravitated to prose over poetry. He eventually decided to make a living as a writer, starting work at a small newspaper in Greenville, Texas, nearly a decade ago. His newspaper career was suffocated in its sleep in 2006 after he realized journalism might be a noble profession, but slowly starving his family to death was not. He’s had stories selected for Flashing Swords, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Triangulation: End of Time, Gryphonwood and Courting Morpheus, among others.
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12 Responses to “AFTER, LIFE • by Jeff Parish”
Comments
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August 2nd, 2008 at 3:48 am
I loved this - the dawning realization that the main character is a zombie, the wonderful imagery, the very real sense we get of Zombie Ralph’s thoughts and motivations. Bravo!
August 2nd, 2008 at 6:15 am
Nice twist on the zombie story.
August 2nd, 2008 at 6:16 am
This feels like it should be the opening of a regular short story, rather than a complete flash. It stops just about where one would expect things to really get moving.
August 2nd, 2008 at 7:49 am
Good one Jeff! Love the ending, and the doubts about Vanessa’a fate. Will have to think about this one.
August 2nd, 2008 at 9:00 am
Good one Jeff!
August 2nd, 2008 at 9:42 am
Hungry zombie meets Vanessa, hmm…
August 2nd, 2008 at 1:37 pm
Creepy! I felt claustrophobic and panicky just reading this. Well done.
August 2nd, 2008 at 3:10 pm
I liked this a lot. I’ve pondered the mind of a zombie many times, and sometimes when I’m at work, I actually have the mind of a zombie.
I would have liked to see Ralph’s reunion with Vanessa. Tearful, I’m sure.
August 3rd, 2008 at 1:31 am
Huh? Why zombie? I just happen to be reading some of P.N.Elrod’s stuff at the moment which made me think more broadly, so why not vampire, or ghoul or anything else along those lines? If anything, the canon (pseudo-fact book, not fiction or film) on these things says zombies have to be made in rituals, so a zombie would have started like that, not underground.
August 4th, 2008 at 1:09 am
On the undead, “Throne of Bones” by Brian McNaughton is a great collection about ghouls, if you can find it.
For zombie love stories I also heartily recommend Stubbs the Zombie on PC and Xbox.
I liked this story well enough but I’m pretty convinced I’ve read something very similar before.
August 4th, 2008 at 4:31 pm
Ha ha, poor Vanessa will have a nasty surprise. Great story, loved it.
August 4th, 2008 at 6:36 pm
Thanks, guys and gals!