Read Online Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology by Adam Millard, Guy James, Suzanne Robb, Chantal Boudreau, Mia Darien, Douglas Vance Castagna, Rebecca Snow, Caitlin Gunn, R.d Teun - Free Book Online
Authors: Adam Millard, Guy James, Suzanne Robb, Chantal Boudreau, Mia Darien, Douglas Vance Castagna, Rebecca Snow, Caitlin Gunn, R.d Teun
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anymore.” Jesse pounded the dirt with a clenched fist. “She says it’s pointless.”
His grandmother swayed at the bars. He imagined she blinked.
“Well, I think she’s wrong. I don’t think we should forget you.” Jesse wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t think we should forget any of you. And I certainly don’t think it’s pointless.”
The dead woman leaned her head against the bars.
“I think she wants to pretend you never existed. She’s even taken down most of the family photographs.”
She paced a few steps before turning back to face the fence.
Jesse tilted his head and pulled a clump of grass up by its roots.
“But if your body is still down here walking around, where did your soul go?” he asked.
She let out a swine-like snort and swiped her hand to her chest.
“Why can’t you move on?”
A shrill cry rose from the rotting corpse as she swung her arm in a wild arc and slumped to the grass. Her hand stretched toward her grandson, her fingers still flexing. Her clouded eyes gazed through him.
Jesse sighed. After reaching inside the bag again, he crumpled the paper and tossed it beside him on the blanket. Scooting across the rough wool, he held out his last tribute in his flattened palm. The sugar skull was positioned as if it were staring straight into the reanimated woman’s eyes. Its colorful sugar paste lines and curls stood out against the stark white of the pressed granulated sugar glistening in the lamp’s flame. The deceased woman’s grasping hand stilled as Jesse drew closer, a thin sheen of mashed cake peeling from the base of her thumb. A delicate sigh seeped from her chest when her flaking fingers brushed the calavera de azúcar. As her hand closed around the crystallized form, small flakes of sugar escaped through cracks in her flesh. Her grip tightened, and the delicacy shattered, littering the patchy weeds with candy shards. She pressed her fist to her lips for the length of time it took Jesse’s heart to beat four times before she moaned and opened her hand to reach for him once more. The remaining cracked skull fluttered to his feet.
Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he stood. He noticed even more lanterns flickering around the cemetery’s iron bars as he gathered his belongings. Hushed words from muted conversations filtered through the cooling breeze.
“Goodnight, Gramma,” he said.
The dead woman grunted.
Jesse extinguished his lantern and trudged home through the pre-dawn light. His feet crunched the fluttering leaves.
RANDY'S NIGHT OUT
Douglas Vance Castagna
Randy lifted a gnarled hand to his mouth. His gums were oozing small amounts of blackened blood. He felt his teeth. His right incisor was cracked and broken off.
He remembered the good old days, when he'd been invincible. He only had his memories of those times:
The freedom of the night air. The terror he'd struck into the hearts of men when they found out who he was. What he was. The strength and power he'd felt after feeding, and, of course, the glory of the chase. All of these things were gone.
He wondered how a Vampire could be infected. He thought his immune system had been totally capable of dealing with anything.
Often he would speak aloud to himself.
"Why did I pick up that prostitute? She was the one, I know it was her. But I shouldn't have gone to her."
In the back of his mind he knew that it might have not been her who infected him. He could have contracted the virus from any one of his countless victims, but he felt the need to blame someone for his pain and suffering.
"Why don't mortals take care of themselves?" he would often cry with tears of pity and anger. He wished that someone would put a stake through his heart and end it already. However, he had no such luck. He was a Vampire and therefore immortal. Which meant that his suffering
His grandmother swayed at the bars. He imagined she blinked.
“Well, I think she’s wrong. I don’t think we should forget you.” Jesse wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t think we should forget any of you. And I certainly don’t think it’s pointless.”
The dead woman leaned her head against the bars.
“I think she wants to pretend you never existed. She’s even taken down most of the family photographs.”
She paced a few steps before turning back to face the fence.
Jesse tilted his head and pulled a clump of grass up by its roots.
“But if your body is still down here walking around, where did your soul go?” he asked.
She let out a swine-like snort and swiped her hand to her chest.
“Why can’t you move on?”
A shrill cry rose from the rotting corpse as she swung her arm in a wild arc and slumped to the grass. Her hand stretched toward her grandson, her fingers still flexing. Her clouded eyes gazed through him.
Jesse sighed. After reaching inside the bag again, he crumpled the paper and tossed it beside him on the blanket. Scooting across the rough wool, he held out his last tribute in his flattened palm. The sugar skull was positioned as if it were staring straight into the reanimated woman’s eyes. Its colorful sugar paste lines and curls stood out against the stark white of the pressed granulated sugar glistening in the lamp’s flame. The deceased woman’s grasping hand stilled as Jesse drew closer, a thin sheen of mashed cake peeling from the base of her thumb. A delicate sigh seeped from her chest when her flaking fingers brushed the calavera de azúcar. As her hand closed around the crystallized form, small flakes of sugar escaped through cracks in her flesh. Her grip tightened, and the delicacy shattered, littering the patchy weeds with candy shards. She pressed her fist to her lips for the length of time it took Jesse’s heart to beat four times before she moaned and opened her hand to reach for him once more. The remaining cracked skull fluttered to his feet.
Letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he stood. He noticed even more lanterns flickering around the cemetery’s iron bars as he gathered his belongings. Hushed words from muted conversations filtered through the cooling breeze.
“Goodnight, Gramma,” he said.
The dead woman grunted.
Jesse extinguished his lantern and trudged home through the pre-dawn light. His feet crunched the fluttering leaves.
RANDY'S NIGHT OUT
Douglas Vance Castagna
Randy lifted a gnarled hand to his mouth. His gums were oozing small amounts of blackened blood. He felt his teeth. His right incisor was cracked and broken off.
He remembered the good old days, when he'd been invincible. He only had his memories of those times:
The freedom of the night air. The terror he'd struck into the hearts of men when they found out who he was. What he was. The strength and power he'd felt after feeding, and, of course, the glory of the chase. All of these things were gone.
He wondered how a Vampire could be infected. He thought his immune system had been totally capable of dealing with anything.
Often he would speak aloud to himself.
"Why did I pick up that prostitute? She was the one, I know it was her. But I shouldn't have gone to her."
In the back of his mind he knew that it might have not been her who infected him. He could have contracted the virus from any one of his countless victims, but he felt the need to blame someone for his pain and suffering.
"Why don't mortals take care of themselves?" he would often cry with tears of pity and anger. He wished that someone would put a stake through his heart and end it already. However, he had no such luck. He was a Vampire and therefore immortal. Which meant that his suffering
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