They call me DEADBEAT CREEP. I’m seriously dead, and I’m dead serious. You might say I’m the ‘Heartiest’ and most ‘Humerus’ of all skeletons living in the deep, Deep South. You’d call it HELL! The Devils and Demons aptly branded it Mourning. But between the living and the dead, it’s just home to me. My eternal resting spot, where the skies burn red like wildfire, and the STARS (an army of frozen terror led by the Fallen One) will give your nightmares nightmares. Welcome to Mourning: A ‘Friendly’ Town!
Before all the horror fans get excited, let me set the record straight. I’m not a zombie. I don’t eat the flesh of the living, nor do I crave their brains, though I could always use some more of my own. Truth is, I’m not special in the least, and I’m about as deep as a puddle. The only thing I did was die. It happens to the best of us, as well as the rest of us. But my story isn’t about brains. It’s all heart, and not the beating one inside my hollow chest cavity, either. I refer to my drowned wife from another life, my Lenore, and how she rose from the grave to save my soul.
So, please, take a stroll with me through the valley of the shadow of death. And I will tell you a Hellish Tale, a tale about what happens to your eternal soul once it’s recycled underneath six feet of dirt and rocks. The irony of all this being, I really started to live once I died.
“DEADBEAT CREEP and the Red Skies in Mourning”
You’ll LAUGH. You’ll CRY. You’ll simply DIE!
LifeAfter Literature: Telling the Tales of the Damned!
