These are my thoughts as I wander the earth trapped in a body that was once mine. These are the horrors I witness through familiar yet uncontrollable eyes. My consciousness is not infected, but my being is. I am the undead.

     Where do I begin? The last thing I remember was that I was attacked. I don't remember where I was, but I do remember the darkness. It washed over my mind like a tidal wave over a coastal town. I was dead. It was the end, but then I awoke as if I was waking up to a pitch black room. I heard no sounds. I tried to move, tried to jar myself from this post slumber feeling, but nothing happened. Just then, my eyes opened. Somehow this shocked me. Something was wrong. I was not looking at the world through my eyes, I was experiencing some kind of "inside looking out" perspective, as if I was watching the world through a window. I was trying to examine myself but my body refused. It stood up and glanced around the room. This was an entrance way of a house. My house? My body trudged towards the front door and then paused as if exiting this home would be a most challenging task. I reached out and grabbed the door handle, but instead, my hand moved forward slowly in a bunched up fist and slammed down on the lever. I felt nothing. The front door slowly opened to the outside world to reveal a scene that has only been depicted by cinema. The sky blackened by smoke from the raging fires, the streets bloodied as a crowd of......are these people, slowly pushed themselves forward towards oblivion. This was my birth, the beginning of my afterlife.

I will go on, but as I like to say, "some things are better off left undead."

 Check Out Part 2 of "My Undeath"