Hall Of Fame!
Survival - 8 Wins!
Brutal - 3 Fatalities
Personal Wins: 8
Personal Losses: 3
The fact that I was conceived by a necrophile is just creepy. I don't know what kind of person my dad was, but one thing's for sure, he was not the most well-adjusted person out there. I can't really say how I was conceived dead, or, for that matter, born living dead. I think it was during that big Comet Zombie Hoard incident of a couple of decades ago, I've read a lot about it.~As far as I can tell, I was born about 3:30 am, about the time the first wave of zombies had eaten the camp counselors and moved into the forest and the second wave was just starting to get out of the ground. Since classic 'comet-style' zombies don't have much muscle control other than to eat living flesh, I figure I sort of fell out of Mom, and my first meal was something like what remained of any life juice from the umbilical cord. The dirt, I figure, must have fallen into the hole Mom made by digging out, so I was stuck in the coffin. Some sort of fail-safe in my DNA must have activated or something, because I know I stayed in that coffin for a good while, and wasn't the least bit hungry. I know I chewed on the coffin a bit...Ok, I know I ate the coffin. That was all the nutrition I needed for a few years.~Then I got hungry and dug out of the ground. Six feet of dirt is nothing when a three-year-old is hungry.~The first feeling when I got out of the ground was the brightness of it all. The sun shone down, and, never having seen the sun, it scared me. After I realized I wasn't dissolving or something, I decided to make the best of it, at least I wasn't in that damn box anymore.~In case you haven't been able to tell by now, I'm a zombie. Born a zombie, living dead a zombie. But that's the thing you have to understand. I'm not like any other zombie a necromancer may have attacked you with. I'll get to why later.~Anyway, I wandered around the graveyard for several years, eating grass and stuff like that to survive. There was a fence around the cemetery, so I couldn't of gotten out, even if I had wanted to.~I got picked up by this gravedigger's kids when they mistook me for an extremely ugly dog. I was...oh, five or six then. I still remember the time they first brought me home and plopped a steak in front of me. Ugh, the smell, the image, the blood slowly drooping off of it. It disgusted me. It was a t-bone steak, cooked just barely and it made a miserable sound when they threw it on the linoleum in front of me. That cemented my vegetarianism right then and there.~That family was my first family I knew, and after someone realized that most dogs couldn't replicate speech, they accepted me as one of the family. That's where I got all my knowledge, my life, (or, er, lack thereof...) and my name, Zamora. They knew I was a zombie, but...I don't think they cared. I wasn't eating their brains, and, according to me, nothing would disgust me more. I was just a member of the family.~I left them last month. It wasn't that I didn't love them, but I knew that there was more out there to experience and find. And...um, I had to find someone to love, to spend the rest of my time with. I may just be a teenage lovelorn zombie, but if that's who I am, so be it!
I don't know who my parents were, or what happened to them. I just found my last name by wandering the graveyard I was found in until I found a marker that I might have come out from and had a last name I liked.~I like to think that Mom didn't eat anyone, and was destroyed quickly by the hero that attacked them all. Holy water seems like a fast way to go.~I don't harbor any grudges towards anyone. I can't stop people from hating zombies, just as I can't help that most zombies go straight for the head. I'd like to fight for reanimated rights, but, let's face it, most zombies just don't deserve it.~Many people may treat me cruelly, since I'm a member of the undead legion. I'll just go home and cry and cry when that happens. But I've never been one to back down from anything, especially idiots that hate me just because I have green, slightly pitted skin. It's just acne to me, you know?
Braaaaiiins... Just kidding!
Humans actually smell rather good. Especially if they keep up on their baths, you know? I can smell fresh flesh from a mile away.~A lot of my classmates and other people get nervous when I can smell them and taste their presence. But I'm a vegetarian, like I said. Just because I can smell the fresh smell of life doesn't mean I'll act on anything. Some people...
The Standard Package
Natural Weaponry: Superior
No one, and I mean no one believes me at first when I tell them I'm a vegetarian. So what, I'm a zombie that can actually survive without eating flesh! But no, they always give me this look that says, "Sure, just wait 'til I turn around and then you'll gouge out my intestine and slurp it down like spaghetti." Some people even say that. Jerks.~I know could break open your skull, but why? I'd much rather open a coconut with my nails. I don't have the instincts other zombies seem to have, even if I do have the equipment. It's usually only after they meet some of my friends that people accept I'm not a minion of Hell.~I'm a vegetarian, what's so freaking hard to understand about that? I'd rather have some coleslaw than your liver and spleen. I guess some stereotypes are just harder to get rid of than others.
Six Feet Under
If you think digging your way out of a grave from the inside is easy, think again. Remember how young I was? It took me nearly a month to get out of my grave, and I worked quite a while. ~The gravedigger's family had a garden, and, after I accidentally ate all of the mother's tomatoes, I helped out in there quite a bit. I feel...alive, full of vigor, when I'm out there in the dirt, making holes for bulbs and feeling the soil in my fingernails. It's a feeling that really doesn't have an equal. Except for maybe coconut. I love coconut.~I'm in charge at the garden the college has, and it does my inactive heart good to help out so much. That, and it makes it really easy to dig up the graves...~Stop looking at me like that.
Dead people actually are pretty nice to talk to. After I get them over the "EAT HUMAN FLESH!!" stage. It seems that when you're actually dead, you have a lot of time to think. I can go to the graves and just talk to them, tell them my problems. It's really nice.~Of course, I have to be careful. I won't ever forget the time a whole group of mourners walked in on a little therepy session of mine. I do not think I've ever apologized so many times. Oops...
Zombie Disadvantage #1...
And, not to mention...~Oh. Oh, damn. Sorry, sorry. Yuck. Let me just pick this up... Jesus, I'm like a freaking leper.~Yeah. That's one of the things about my zombie 'heritage' that I really can't escape from. I'm a decaying corpse. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, you know. I take showers, but sometimes that even makes it worse. My skin's nearly off my bones, the whole hand falling off the arm...I guess it just makes me remember I'm a zombie, and to not get too...I don't know, cocky?~Oh, and there's this hole near my stomach you can see my insides through. Actually, it let me get good marks in my anatomy class, so...
Toxic Touch: Standard
And then thers the problem of the Z-virus. You know, the thing that makes anyone killed or hurt by a zombie become a zombie...~I don't really think that there is something like that, but I don't know. I once got in a fight with some other priss and when I scratched her, my fingernails left the most disgusting green and black marks on her. Not to mention the ichor, YUCK! I almost got sued until the zombie-ness went away, thank God. Death isn't really a virus, but I think there's a tiny bit of infection I can give...
"No way, man! The dead chick?"
And yet, even with the living dead thing and all these glorious extras going for me, guys still want to go out with me. It's weird, really. Not that I mind.~I have a feeling that it's something like a "DUDE! I'm dating the zombie chick!" thing. I guess if you're different, there's an attraction naturally. If it's that way, I don't want to be asked. I mean, I've been interviewed for the yearbook I don't know how many times. I'd hate to think they only like me for the fame... But it may be something I have to accept.
Listen, I've had a great time...
Emotionally Sensitive: Standard
It's not that I'm boy-crazy or sex-starved, but...I just want companionship. I don't have a biologically mom or dad, and, you know...~At the same time, though, I know when a relationship just isn't working out. And I don't want either of us to be miserable.~I'm always sure to be tender and kind. Boys have feelings too, ya know? I don't want to hurt him. He's a person, and if there's one thing being branded as a non-human has taught me, it's that no one deserves to feel like a flesh-eating monster.~...Yeah.