SOme notes on this part.
Mormel means monster in Dutch.
Also, there was no proof reading involved here. It also trails off becauseI'm tired and can't think of anything.
Peter remembered dying. It seemed like only yesterday. He died in a bar fight at the Black Dog Inn. It started as a scrap with a friend about the Federalists and the Democratic-Republicans, Jefferson’s Party. Politics and alcohol are just as volatile a mixture than as they are now. His newfound friend that night was a Federalist, and he a Democratic-Republican. They were going back and forth over whose party was better and it soon turned into a full-blown brawl. While Peter was a good and strong fighter, his opponent overtook him with a barn stool. Peter was beaten to the ground, and died of severe head trauma and excessive bleeding.
Peter, nervously peered out of what he assumed was his grave. His eyes were not serving him so well, but he looked at his surroundings as best he could. Directly in front of him, only ten feet away, was a young man. He looked absolutely terrified. This scared Peter even further. If this man had something to be so scared of, Peter should be scared as well. He grunted as he tried to climb out of the grave, due to the brain damaged that occurred at his death, he didn’t realize he was the cause of fear. As Peter clawed at the ground, the man on the ground in front of him, screamed like a little girl. This shocked Peter so much, that he fell back into his grave. He laid there a moment and grunted. He looked down his body at his feet. What he saw helped make the connection of the young man’s fear. He was a horrid looking corpse. His clothes were dirty and threadbare and what was left of his skin was colorless. He lifted his hands to his face. All nine of his fingers were bone. Peter was utterly dismayed at his deterioration. He stared at his hands a bit longer and then remembered that he had ten fingers at death, he grunted louder and stood up in his grave. The man on the ground shrieked again. Peter ducked into his grave, he didn’t want to scare the only human in sight. Peter stuck his hand to the air and grunted softly, when there was no scream in response, he peaked over the edge of his grave. The man was still there and was staring at him, breathing heavily and whimpering. Peter forgot how to speak, and could only grunt and try to ask for help. Facial expressions would not do him any good because of his decayed state. Roger, noticing the commotion Peter was making, came running over to him, and began chewing another one of his fingers. Peter, distressed by the dog playing tug of war with his bony hand, grunted and tried to escape the dog’s mouth, but it was no use. Roger made off with Peter’s whole hand this time. Peter was so upset, that he managed to get out the words, “My hand!” in a raspy and dry voice. Frank was so astonished to hear the supposedly dead man speaking that his jaw dropped. Peter saw the Frank staring at him, and tried again to ask for help. This time he managed to get the word “help” out. Frank was still too scared to move, so he sat and stared at Peter. Peter stared back, he didn’t want to scare the man, he just wanted his help. Peter looked around for the dog that stole his hand, that was when he noticed all the other graves surrounding his and all the huge towers around the graves. Peter was astonished, they were like huge castles everywhere.
Frank noticed Peter’s jaw was dropped in awe of his surroundings. It then occurred to Frank, that the man in the grave had never seen the modern world. He watched in disbelief, as the corpse looked around him. After watching it for quite some time, Frank decided that maybe it wasn’t going to kill him. Frank called to it, “Hey!” in a shaky voice. The man turned, looked at him and grunted. Frank was still horrified. He took a deep breath and asked the corpse if it was going to kill or harm him. The dead man gave a sincere grunt and shook his head rapidly, then asked for help again.
Frank agreed, and slowly moved toward the grave. As he inched closer, thoughts of being dragged into the grave and being eaten were running through his mind. The closer he got, the more he could smell the rancid scent of death. Frank wanted to throw up, both from fear and the disgusting smell. Now, being able to see this thing from a closer distance, he could see just how horrible it was. The closer Frank got, the more excited it got. It was almost smiling, and Frank found that very disturbing. Frank reached down a hand to the corpse, and shuddered when his living hand was met with dead bones. Frank held his composure and tried to not pass out. The corpse said to him, “pull,” so he did. Frank pulled and the decaying body came up and out of the grave. He dropped the body and it fell to the ground with a quiet thud. It grunted and rolled over to sit up. Frank just stared as the body looked up at him. He held back the urge to run and hide.
“Please… do not be afraid. I…” the corpse started choking, trying to get out more words.
“I will not hurt you. Sit.” The corpse motioned for Frank sit down. He took a step back and did so. They both seemed to be calm and handling the situation well. They sat and stared for a few moments.
“So, your grave says your name is Peter, is that right?” asked Frank. The corpse grunted and gave a single nod.
“Well, I’m Frank. I live in that house.” He motioned to the small and simply house. Peter looked at him in surprise. He thought he must have a lot of money or come from a good family, to live in a house that large. As the two men, well the man and the dead man, continued talking, Peter asked many questions. He asked about the shiny metal things that are called cars, the clothes Frank was wearing, the huge towers that are called houses, and other things like that. Peter barely understood any of what was being told to him, he was just astonished at how changed the world was. As they continued their conversation, the year came up. Peter had been dead for over 200 years. While the thought of numbers was on his mind, Peter asked for his hand back, but sadly Roger had already eaten it.
Over the next few years, Peter learned a lot from Frank, they became good friends. Peter mostly had to stay hidden, but now with zombie movies being such a thing, he gets paid to be himself!
I live to ride and I ride to live
Horses are just angels without wings
11/01/09 <3 my horse left hoof prints on my heart