I finally feel like a person again, with a reason to post something that isn't Janvent. I've been so caught up in Janvent that I've seemingly only been posting only Janvent and have forgotten to actually create the #janvent tag! Oops.
I came across 
Not only, who doesn't like a good zombie, but who doesn't like a good zombie love story? I mean, guy zombies are all after the women for their brraaaiiiinnns, but what do the women zombies really want? Maybe not even another zombie at all?
Let's take a trip to a place I like to call Undeadtown...
The town of Undeadsville was a pleasant little town. At least, it as pleasant if you were undead, otherwise it was more likely on the unpleasant side. There were houses of a variety of shapes and sizes, parks for children to play in, businesses, shops, and schools. The houses were decorated while some had fences and others did not. Most of the yards were well kept, as were the parks. The business and shops were usually active with people, and the schools were full of children wanting to learn. It really was a nice town, as long as you were one of the undead.
The houses, the better houses anyway, were built with rotten wood and broken windows. The best yards - those that had decomposing ribbons for looking the best - had mudpits carefully placed around the house, dead trees in the front, and mice running about them. And the population was, of course, undead; ghouls and ghasts roamed the street along with zombies and skeletons of all sizes.
Roze was a zombie child. She was a happy zombie and lived with her zombie parents. It was easy to tell a zombie girl from a zombie boy because the zombie girls usually had longer hair, when they still had hair. They also dressed nicer, in skirts that were holed and often had maggots. The boys pants didn't always have maggots, which confused the girls; the girl zombies did not understand why the boy zombies wouldn't take care of themselves.
Roze's neighbour and best friend was Boneapart. Boneapart was not a zombie; rather, he was a skeleton. Unlike zombies, skeletons did not wear clothing, so it was easy for Roze to tell boy skeletons from girl skeletons; boy skeletons were typically larger boned than the girl skeletons. Roze liked Boneapart.
Roze and Boneapart would usually walk to school together. They were the same age and were in the same grade, and they were of the age where children would begin to get "the talk" from their parents. Since Roze and Boneapart were best friends they would share everything, including what their parents told them.
"So," Roze said as they were walking one more down the decrepit lane on their way to school. "Did your parents give you 'the talk' last night like ine did?"
Boneapart nodded solemnly, or at least as solemnly as a skeleton could. "Yes," he said slowly, almost as if he was embarrased about it.
They walked a short while longer in silence before Roze couldn't stand it anymore and had to know. "So?" she asked again. "How does it work with skeletons? My parents told me that zombie babies are made when zombie parents happen to slap their wet soggy flesh into each other and drip wet body parts together."
Boneapart thought about this for awhile and wondered about this. "Well," he murmured, "skeletons don't have wet body parts. Apparently baby skeletons are made when a daddy skeleton gives a mommy skeleton an extra bone. My big brother said it was called 'getting boned' but my parents yelled at him for it."
That was just as strange to Roze as Boneapart must have felt. There was more silence. Roze never before felt uncomfortable around Boneapart, but she did this time, and it was strange. She didn't know why.
"I wonder if zombies and skeletons could have a baby together," Roze wondered. "But I'm the only one that has wet parts. All you have are bones."
Boneapart shrugged. They were just getting to the school now, so they stopped the conversation in case it was embarrasing for anyone. They waved goodbye and went their own way. Roze watched Boneapart walk up the stairs to his homeroom, and then she realised why she was embarrased with him.
Roze wondered what would happen if, perhaps, one day, Boneapart were to slap his bone into her wet soggy flesh.
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
About Me
Amateur photographer. Wannabe author. Game designer. Nerd.
General all around problem-solver and creative type.
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