《Dear Alice》
Date: ?/?/?
I¡¯ve lived with zombies my entire life. I was born from them. I¡¯ve been raised by two...loving parents. But they¡¯re still zombies.
I¡¯m human.
I love my parents and cherish my friends.
But I hate humans.
They can¡¯t understand us. They try to kill my friends and save me, but call me a madman when I refuse.
I admit. Zombies are dangerous. But my parents? My friends? They¡¯ve done more for me than humans.
Why am I human, though? It¡¯s not some trope where it turns out I¡¯m a zombie. There¡¯s very clear indications, and mirrors still exist. I¡¯m human. My flesh isn¡¯t green and rotting. It¡¯s a nice tan color, like I was sitting in the sun for too long. My hair isn¡¯t falling out, it¡¯s short and black, but very much there. I cut it around summertime every year.
My friends and parents are also clearly zombies. There¡¯s no mistaking it.
I¡¯m a human that was born and raised by zombies, from zombies.
My whole life I¡¯ve always asked my mother who I am.
She always said that I was her son, her precious Zeff.
I¡¯ve asked my father occasionally, but he isn¡¯t very smart. Not because he¡¯s a zombie, but because he¡¯s just dumb. My mother seems to find it amusing, though.
They usually don¡¯t need to do much. They¡¯re dead. They don¡¯t need food, they don¡¯t need water.
But I do.
My father risks his death pretending to be a human just to buy me food. But our tap still works, so water isn''t a problem.
Oh, I haven¡¯t mentioned our house. We live in a nice 2-story suburban house. It¡¯s clean and tidy. My mother makes sure it¡¯s spotless. For some reason zombies are obsessed with cleanliness.
My mother said that she wasn¡¯t always a zombie, though. She became one for my father. He seems to have always been a zombie, but I¡¯m not sure if I believe that. Every other zombie I¡¯ve met, excluding ones born between other zombies, was once human. Zombies haven¡¯t really been around long enough for a zombie my fathers age to have been born as one. Then again, I am a human somehow. So you never know.
I once thought that my father was maybe the first zombie ever. If I believe what he says then he is, but I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t have much faith in the validity of his claims.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
What¡¯s strange is the interactions between humans and zombies in my world.
By all accounts, I should be dead. I shouldn¡¯t be alive.
Yet I am.
Zombies don¡¯t seem aggressive towards me for the most part.
But neither do humans. They¡¯ve tried on multiple occasions to kidnap me, so I kinda consider them annoying.
I have a comfy bed here. They sleep in dirty ass sleeping bags.
Which do you think I¡¯d choose?
The answer is the comfy bed.
Zombies don¡¯t smell, they don¡¯t fall apart, and they do look mostly human. One of the only main defining traits of a zombie is their aggression towards humans.
I know I talked about the hair falling out, or the rotting skin, but I¡¯ve met some zombies who are almost human. Some that even have blood flowing through their body like me. At first I actually thought they were human.
My mother told me that they¡¯re a special type of zombie. Instead of being deformed or dead, they have a body part that is completely white. It could be the hair, the nails, the skin, anything. But their eyes will always be white.
My mother is probably the smartest person I¡¯ve ever met, and even she has no idea why.
They seem to be able to reason with humans like me to a certain extent, but it¡¯s pretty much still an attack on sight kinda thing.
It might be because humans can¡¯t tell the difference between the shades of white and gray that separate how intelligent they are.
I¡¯ve heard legends from my friends about there being a zombie whose hair is pure white. Apparently she¡¯s a genius in almost every way, and the only zombie to have ever peacefully communicated with humans.
Speaking of, for some reason my mother wants me to hide the fact that I¡¯m human from as many people as possible. I usually have to wear fake nails or clip a strand of white hair on.
My neighbors know, but they¡¯re worried about the rest of the world finding out.
Zombies seem to not recognize me as completely human, even with just their thoughts or a picture of me. So I disagree with my mom. My father does too, so I¡¯m actually a little bit more unsure of my opinion than I thought. That¡¯s why I do it at all.
But that¡¯s me.
This story isn¡¯t about my life from before.
This is the story of what happened to me from the day I turned 17 and onward.
The story of how I met the girl with snow white hair on that fateful winters day.
This is how I met your mother.
If you are reading this by any chance, then you''re probably 17 now, and I¡¯m already gone.
Happy birthday, Alice.
I just want you to know that we love you.
And I wrote every reason why I love both you and your mother very very much.
I¡¯m not the best at writing, and I may remember some things wrong, but your mother will correct anything that sounds off, I hope.
I know, it¡¯s a lame birthday present.
But I¡¯ve left you a gift in here.
Once you figure it out for yourself, it¡¯s magical.
Or your mother has already taught you about it.
In which case, this might just be a scrap of paper to most kids.
But I¡¯m sorry I had to leave, Alice.
I truly, truly am.
Hopefully you¡¯ll understand.
But I won¡¯t ask you to forgive me.
Because I won¡¯t forgive myself.
Date: December 12, 20 years later
Date: December 12, 20 years later
There were streamers everywhere, and at the end of a table sat a girl. She had long black hair down to her waist, intense crimson eyes, and a large smile on her face.
She opened a present that her mother had put in front of her, not noticing her mothers expression.
¡°A leatherbound diary? Mom, what¡¯s this for?¡± Alice asked, holding a book up to the light.
It was made of a tough leather, the pages were decently sturdy, and it looked like it had been through hell.
In faded gold letters at the top it said, ''To My Dear Alice'' And in fadded gold letters near the bottom it read, ''Happy Birthday''
¡°It¡¯s a gift your father left for you. I chose to never open it, so I''m not sure exactly what it is.¡± Mom said, a lonely tone echoeing subtly in her words.
¡°It¡¯s from dad? How? Is he here somewhere?!¡± Alice asked, excited.
Mom shook her head.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
¡°No. I¡¯m sorry, sweetie. He left this here for you when you turned 17. This is the reason I chose not to tell you much about him while you were growing up." Mom said.
She noticed Alice bouncing in her seat excitedly.
"Considering how excited you look, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re quite happy. Your eyes are sparkling again.¡± Mom laughed.
¡°You¡¯re saying this has information about dad, right? Does it say anything about where he is?¡± Alice asked, a glint of hopeless curiosity in her eyes.
Mom stopped laughing.
¡°Mom? Are you okay?¡± Alice asked, slightly concerned.
Mom shook her head, frowning.
¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alice. I can¡¯t answer that yet. You''ll find all of the answers you¡¯re looking for in that book, though.¡± Mom said, pointing at the leatherbound book which Alice held reverently in her hands.
¡°But why give it to me when I¡¯m 17?¡± Alice asked.
¡°It¡¯s in the book. Why don''t you read it?¡± Mom asked.
¡°I¡¯m kinda too excited to open it. My hands are shaking.¡± Alice said
¡°While your father was a great man, he wasn¡¯t that much of a saint. You don¡¯t need to hold him in that high of regard, Alice.¡± Mom sighed.
¡°But he¡¯s my father. He¡¯s my dad!¡± Alice exclaimed.
¡°....You¡¯re just like your father, Alice. In a lot of ways. You¡¯ll learn more as you read. It¡¯s time for mom to go to bed, though. Don¡¯t stay up too late reading that thing, okay?¡± Mom said, yawning.
She left the room and headed upstairs.
Alice opened the diary.
Date: 12/12/2001 9am-8pm: The Diary
Date: 12/12/2001 9am-8pm: The Diary
I¡¯m not sure how you¡¯re supposed to use these things. I just write things as I go, I guess?
Well, it¡¯s my birthday today.
I¡¯m 17 now.
For some reason mom gave me this diary.
I think a lot of other kids might dislike it, but I¡¯ve always thought that keeping a diary might be interesting.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
I guess that¡¯s why mom got it for me.
But I have to go for now. My friends want to bring me to what I¡¯m guessing is a poorly planned surprise party. sometimes I forget about how the world apparently ended. Everything seems Normal.
I¡¯m happy I guess.
It¡¯s snowy outside.
I came back to get my jacket, but I think I¡¯ll bring this along with me.
I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m writing this diary exactly, but it feels important.
It was indeed a surprise party. I had a ton of fun and we messed around for hours.
Mom said I could stay out late tonight.
My friends had to go home already, so I¡¯m out here in the woods alone, at night.
I thought it would be scarier. The moon is pretty. The lake reflects it like a beautiful painting.
It¡¯s quite peacefu
Date: 12/12/01, 8pm: A Fateful Winter鈥檚 Day, The Snowy Woman
Date: 12/12/01, 8pm: A Fateful Winter¡¯s Day, The Snowy Woman
I met a girl while I was walking through the forest.
She was freezing, and covered in snow.
Her hair is pure white, and her eyes are a beautiful red.
I¡¯m not sure if she¡¯s a human and dead, or a zombie who¡¯s unconscious.
Considering the white hair, I assume that she¡¯s a zombie that¡¯s just a bit more human than the rest.
¡°What?¡± Is the first thing she said.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
It was very quiet.
I picked her up and brought her home.
My parents are asleep, so I put her in my bed to warm up.
I figure she¡¯s just frozen.
It was late, so I was dozing off while I waited for her to wake up.
And wake up she did. Not very pleasantly, though.
When she woke up, she immediately grabbed a knife from somewhere and held it to my throat while I was still dozing off.
If I remember correctly, I think she said
¡°Who are you. Where am I? Why did a human like you rescue some zombie?! What¡¯s your plan?¡±
Of course, I was definitely startled.
In fact, I still am.
She fell asleep again, though. So I¡¯m still alive to write this at least.
I¡¯ll try figuring it out in the morning. I¡¯m tired right now.
I hope I don¡¯t die while I¡¯m asleep.