Today’s June 2nd. It’s the sixty-second anniversary of the dead coming
back to life. It’s also my twenty-fourth birthday. It’s also
the day after I had to put my father down.
Yesterday my father died. It wasn’t from a zombie bite or anything
exciting like that. He was just getting old & sick. Fifty
is pretty old I guess. I know my father said my grandfather was the
oldest man in the city I was born in & he died when he was fifty-eight.
I knew I should cut my dad’s head off & burn his body, but I couldn’t
do it. I couldn’t think of his body as something separate from him
until he came back trying to eat me. Even then I had trouble cutting
his head off & lighting him on fire.
I guess I want to go back to the city I’m from. I don’t remember
it at all or even know exactly where it is. We left when I was two
years old when my mom died. My dad blamed the city for killing her
& he didn’t talk about the city much. All I know is it was called
Aurora.
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