Party Time
Lydia never needed to dress for costume parties. They made her raven black hair, overly pale face, and dark ringed eyes seem like conscious makeup choices – color coordinated for a night of monster mayhem.
She eyed the man’s costume. Zombies usually weren’t her favorite monsters, but he was made up ”zombie-lite” – no boiling pustules or bleeding gashes, only a grayish complexion and circles under his eyes. He could have passed for a dead rock star.
“I asked if you’d like a drink,” he said.
“Oh, sorry.” She looked away.
“Well?”
“I just had some punch actually,” she said, pointing to the table across the room. “Unless…?”
His grin widened. “Unless?”
“Are you offering something better?”
“I almost certainly am. Would you like to go for a walk?”
Lydia sighed. “Oh…definitely. There’s only so many time you can watch people doing the Monster Mash.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. Her long sleeves rode up when she hooked elbows with him. The scars on her wrists showed prominently, and she adjusted the cloth to cover them again. That was all behind her. Now all she wanted was to get him alone.
They walked out the back door and headed into the woods, following the path. As the two of them walked, Lydia and her escort struggled to keep their footing by the dim light of the stars. The moon was new. Music and drunken laughter faded into the background until the only sounds were the crunching needles beneath their feet.
“Where’s the drink you offered me?” Lydia asked.
“I never offered you a drink.”
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted one. I never actually offered to get you one.”
Lydia sighed. “Oh, I guess you’re right. So… that means I remain thirsty?”
He looked down the path. “We’re actually not far now. I can get you that drink, and then we’ll go to a even better party.”
“Better?” She arched her eyebrows. “Well then, good sir, lead on.”
They turned a corner a little farther in the path and arrived at a clearing. A black cauldron squatted in the remains of an old campfire, long extinguished. Her new friend passed it to retrieve a wine bottle from behind a tree. “I stashed this here. I thought I might meet someone special tonight.” He broke the seal, popped the cork and offered her the bottle. “Drink this, and then we’ll really party.”
She shrugged and drunk deep. Her head swam, but she couldn’t make herself stop until she’d drained the entire flask.
Light filled the clearing from the burnt logs, now consumed by ghostly flames. People in various states of decay danced around the bonfire, beat conga drums, and copulated indiscriminately. The afterlife, it seemed, was much kinder than the dating world in general.
“What the hell is going on? Did you drug me?”
Zombie-lite laughed. “Yes… and poisoned you.”
“But… why?” Her coal black eyes pinned him like a bug under glass.
“When we die, we’re allowed three days to pick someone to join us for eternity. My relationships while living were… less than stellar, but I knew the moment we met that you were the perfect choice.” He caressed the telltale white ridges on her wrists.
Lydia jerked her arm from his grasp, pulling her long sleeves over the ancient scars. She watched the undead mob parade and dance around the mystic fire, the cadavers fornicating in the bushes.
“You’re already dead, well… undead. Come join the party.”
The skin stretched over her skull in an evil grin. “I thought you’d never ask.” She crashed the empty bottle over Zombie-lite’s head, and he toppled to the ground. She used the broken glass to carve up her midnight snack. After picking his body clean, she played the drums with his femurs.
The party never stopped.
As she let the beat carry her away, she shot the skull of her former companion one last look. “Just a word of advice,” she shouted over the din. “If you want to poison a girl, make sure she’s not already dead.” She hurled the femurs at his remains. “Thanks for inviting me to the party.”
She joined the gruesome merrymakers in their revels.
THE END.
*Inspired by Harry Belafonte singing Zombie Jamboree.
**I’d also like to thank ericjkrause and Boolawoola from Twitter for giving me some really good advice when I confessed that I was worried this story was too similar to Hell of a Job. Actually, I tried to explain the plot to my Mother-in-law and she looked at me like I was crazy, so I’m not sure but I think that means I’m a real writer now.
***As always, I beg for welcome any comments or polite suggestions. Anything that helps me improve is a good thing. This is a bit darker than I usually write, and so I’m not really sure how well this story works.
