Harold the Zombie – Chapter 4

If you would like to read Harold the Zombie from the beginning you can find Chapter One HERE.

From Doctor Igor Frankenstein’s Journal

It has been an amazing two years! My whole life I have studied Zombies, their myths, legends and many times dead bodies. The problem with myths and legend is, they are JUST that, myths and legends. While I believe Harold will confirm the truth of many of these myths, I also believe he will prove the utter absurdity of others.

The dead bodies of Zombies can tell us a great deal of a Zombie anatomy, and from that we can infer a great deal about their patterns of behavior.  A dead body however, is a poor substitute for the living thing. After studying dead Zombies I came up with so many questions! Why did the state of certain bodies differ than others. One body would look perfectly healthy, and just like a normal human being. Another would be horribly disfigured, with flesh rotting off its bones. Upon a closer inspection I found this condition was not due to death, but was the Zombies natural state while in life.

Other questions emerged like, why can a Zombie not digest normal food? Harold has already proven that zombies can eat normal food, and even digest it. However most “normal” foods, from what I can observe, have no nutritional help to the Zombie. Unless a Zombies food comes from another human being, the Zombie simply passes the food through its body, and eventually expels it. I am curious to see, as Harold get older, what the effect of animals products, such as steak and chicken, will have on his body.

In the past I used to pray to whatever God would listen that I would have the chance to study a real life Zombie. I desperately wanted answers to these and other questions that plagued my inner brain. And then as if in answer Harold came into my life. He is amazing! A dream come true. Not only do I have a real life Zombie to study and observe, I also get to watch him grow up! How incredibly lucky and blessed I am!

My first observation was a surprising one. Zombie children grow at the same rate of speed as a normal human child. My original theory was that if we mixed the concentration of blood, flesh, and brains as the child grew we would find a certain combination that would accelerate his growth. However I was wrong.

Legends talk about Zombies growing incredibly strong from the things they ate, and developing inhuman strength. I myself dissected the body of a Zombie that had twice the normal amount of muscle then the average human. Perhaps this is something that takes place after puberty? My theory is, if it is true that a Zombie can grow based off what it eats, it must be a talent only available to adults.

Nevertheless I am delighted to have been able to observe Harold for the last two years. I was as excited as his parents when he started crawling, and eventually took his first step. I was especially exuberant when Harold said his first word “Brains!” I couldn’t believe it he said “BRAINS!” I was a giddy as a school girl when his teeth started coming in, however not so giddy when Harold learned to bite….on my own arm. I think when he bit me his instincts took over for he tried to gnaw on my arm as if he were eating a chicken wing. This will certainly be something we will need to watch and keep an eye on. His appetite is incredible. I figure he is eating twice the amount of a normal human child. I must work to keep George and Louis stocked with a good amount of food for Harold. At this rate he is going to eat the morgues out of house and home!

“Harold, if you don’t eat all of your brains and drink all of your blood, then no TV for you tonight mister!” Louis said.

Harold looked at his plate, which had a small but healthy portion of human brains on it, and a medium cup of blood next to it. He like all two year olds didn’t want to eat his supper. This of course is a mystery to all parents, because the law states that as soon as the food is put away the child will tell you that they are hungry. This of course drives all parents borderline insane! So parents all around the world have tried everything to get their child to eat. Some have tried bribery like If you eat you food you will get ice cream. Some have tried threats like If you don’t eat your food you are going straight to your room! Others have tried manipulation like here comes the airplane. And many have resorted to pleading like PLEASE eat your food, I’m begging you! Despite all of these attempts children over the years have learned to see through all of them, and still they refuse to eat their food.

Harold was no different, Zombie or not, Harold was still a typical two year old, and like every other two year old Harold did not want to eat his supper.

“NO! I don’t want to eat stupid brains! They are slimy and don’t taste good!” Harold said.

“George I have had it! All week he has been like this! He is your son DEAL with him!” Louis said. With that she got up from the table and went upstairs stomping every bit of the way. When she got up stairs to her and George’s room she slammed the door.

“Hrfmm!” Harold said while folding his arms with a scowl.

“Harold, why do you do this? You and I both know that the moment I put your food away you will start asking for something to eat. We do this every night. Eat your supper or I am putting it away, and you won’t get anything to eat for the rest of the night.” George said.

“But I don’t want to eat brains again. That’s all I ever eat. Why do I have to eat the same things every night? I want to eat what you and Mommy are eating.” Harold said in a very whiney voice.

“Harold we have been over this before. You are very special, and because you are special you have to eat special food. The food Mommy and Daddy eat is not good for you. If you don’t eat you special food then you will get sick, and you don’t want to get sick do you?” George said.

Harold shook his head.

“That’s a good boy, so if you don’t want to get sick you need to eat you food.” George said.

“No!” Harold Said

“Harold I am starting to lose my patients. Enough of this nonsense eat your supper, or I will send you to your room for the rest of the night.” George said.

With that Harold did what all two year olds do when they don’t get their way. He threw a fit! Within seconds Harold had picked up his plate and thrown it across the table. Brains flew everywhere and the dish broke against the hard surface of the table. The glass of blood had been knocked over and the blood was spilling all over the table and down onto the floor. Having gone through this a time or two George and Louis had the carpets stain guarded and the floor around the dinner table was covered in a thin layer of plastic. After they had to have the carpets replaced twice from spilt blood or flesh George and Louis took precautions.

Harold didn’t seem to mind that there was now blood and brains everywhere. He threw himself down on the ground and started thrashing about screaming, and yelling.

“That’s it Harold! Go to your room right now! If you are not in your room by the time I count to five I am going to paddle your bottom harder than you think possible! 1! 2! 3! 4! I’m serious Harold GO TO YOUR ROOM!” George screamed.

Finally Harold picked himself up off the floor, where he had been kicking and screaming, and headed towards the stairs. As he started up the stairs George could hear him crying all the way up and into his room. The door clicked shut behind him, and all was quiet inside the house.

George walked over to the couch and flopped himself down. He was tired! He had just spent all day at the factory working and managing his staff. He spent his whole day making decisions and working with difficult people. The last thing he wanted to do is come home and deal with the same thing. As he sat on the couch Louis came down the stairs and sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry George. I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. I know you have a hard time coming home to such chaos.” Louis said.

“It’s ok dear. I shouldn’t have shouted at him. I will give him a few minutes to calm down and then go and apologize. I hope then he will be ready to eat. After what Doctor Frankenstein said I am scared to death for Harold to miss even one meal.” George said.

“George!” Louis said laughing “Harold is not going to turn into a raving man killing Zombie after missing one meal. Doctor Frankenstein said it would take weeks for the instincts to take over.” Louis said.

“I know, I know, but it still makes me nervous. We have to be so careful. I love Harold, but he scares me sometimes. Well not him per say, but what he could be. Doctor Frankenstein made it sound so….horrible.” George said.

“You always did have an active imagination. Harold is completely normal. If you don’t count the fact that he drinks blood, and eats brains, but other than that he is a perfectly normal two year old.” Louis said.

George looked at the kitchen table. Blood was slowly dripping off the edges of the table down onto the plastic where it made little pools. The contents of Harold’s plate were strewn about the table and floor, mixing with the blood the brains made for a gruesome site.

“I swear I may never get used to this. Could you imagine what people would think if they walked in on this? They would think we were secret killers who liked to dissect our victims and eat them. I mean look at this mess. It looks like something straight out of a horror film” George said with an exasperated sigh.

“I will clean it up dear, you go talk to Harold. He looks up to you so much. I don’t want you to to go to bed angry with each other.” Louis said.

“Alright, thank you sweetheart.” George said and leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek.

George got himself off the couch and made his way upstairs to Harold’s room. Knocking softly on the door George let himself in. Laying on the floor was his son. George leaned against the door frame and smiled. Harold was asleep on the floor. His blonde hair was in shambles, probably from the fit he threw earlier, and there were patches of dried blood on his hands and clothes.

“What an odd life I live.” George said smiling.

Reaching down George picked Harold up, and walked him over to his bed. Laying him down gently he went about undressing his son for bed. He got up only once to go to the bathroom and retrieve the baby wipes. Using the wipes George did his best to clean the blood off Harold’s hands, face and hair. Once he was all cleaned up and in a fresh pair of pajamas George placed him under the covers and leaned in to kiss the top of Harold’s forehead.

“Good night son. I love you.”

Before George could pull away Harold threw his arms around his neck and gave his father a warm hug. He had only been pretending to be asleep. George knew this, it had been a habit of Harold’s since he was an infant.

“I’m sorry Daddy. Please don’t be mad at me.” Harold said.

“I’m sorry too son, and i’m not mad at you. Would you like me to get you something to eat?” George said.

Harold just shook his head while still holding his father.

“OK Harold, you just want to go to sleep. You seem awfully tired.” George said.

“I’m sleepy.” Harold said in a whispered voice.

“Alright son, go to sleep and I will see you in the morning. I love you.” George said.

Harold was asleep before his head hit the pillow. George stood up, and tidied up the room a bit, and then walked to the door. Looking back on his sleeping son he couldn’t help but think, Zombie or not he was one lucky Dad!

Harold the Zombie – Chapter 3

If you would like to read Harold the Zombie from the beginning you can find Chapter One HERE.

A half hour later Doctor Mills walked into Louis’s hospital room holding a very healthy and happy Harold.

“Oh Doctor, is Harold ok? Can I hold my baby? Please?” Louis said.

“Harold is just fine, for now. George, Louis I want you to meet Doctor Igor Frankenstein. He is world’s leading expert in cases like your son. It was his knowledge and quick work that saved Harold’s life.” Doctor Mills said

George stepped up to Doctor Frankenstein and extended his hand, as Doctor Frankenstein took George’s hand and the two shook George said “Thank you from the bottom of our hearts Doctor Frankenstein! The last two days have been such a world wind. First Harold was born, and then we were informed of his condition, and before we knew what was happening Harold was sick, and Doctor Mills didn’t know if he was going to make it. We love our son Doctor, and we want to do best by him. Doctor Mills has explained that Harold will have some special requirements, and that you can explain them to us. Please Doctor we will do anything to keep Harold alive, healthy and happy. Can we do that?”

Doctor Frankenstein looked George up and down, and then did the same with Louis. Louis, who was now holding Harold in a caring and very affectionate way, and George, who truly seemed to believe the words he had just spoken, were truly rare people.

“So you are fully aware of what Harold is?” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Well not fully aware, because we don’t entirely understand it, but we know he is a, ummm, Zombie.” Louis said.

“And knowing he is a zombie doesn’t bother you, or make you afraid?” Doctor Mills said.

Both Louis and George looked at each other, pausing before speaking for only a moment.

“Of course it bothers us, and makes us afraid, but Louis and I have decided to look at this as any other birth defect. That being the case we want to learn everything we can, so we can help Harold overcome his defect, maybe even help find a cure.” George said.

Doctor Frankenstein raised his eyebrows and said “A cure? My good people I am afraid there is no cure, at least as far as we know or understand. Being a Zombie is part of who Harold is, it makes him Special, Unique, different. In a world that so often forces people to blend in, you would not want to take away the very thing that sets Harold apart from everyone else, would you?”

George and Louis hesitated for another moment, and then looked resolute before Louis said “Doctor we love our son, and will do anything we have to, as long as it keeps Harold safe, and happy. Can we do that? Can Harold live a normal life, and be happy?”

“I am sure that he can my dear I am sure that he can. However first things first you need to know what you are getting into here. I take it from your statements, and from what Doctor Mills has told me is that your knowledge and understanding of Zombies are almost nonexistent. Is this right?”

Both George and Louis nodded their heads.

“Right then, let me tell you a little secret. You are not alone in this limited understanding. I have already explained this to Doctor Mills, but the truth is Harold is the first Zombie that we have ever been able to study alive. Many have been studied post mortem, but never have we had the opportunity to study one from such a young age, and watch grow up. I would very much like that opportunity. Now I don’t mean to poke and prod Harold throughout his life, but I would like

to observe and report. Occasionally I might like to test a theory or two, but I assure you that none of my tests will cause Harold any harm. I also promise to acquire your permission before following through with anything.”

George and Louis looked a little uncomfortable. “How long are you talking about observing Harold? How do we explain to Harold who you are, and why you are performing tests?” George said.

“Excellent question my good man! I was hoping to observe him throughout his life. You can think of me as a family friend, and I do hope to become so. As for what you tell Harold that is entirely up to you. The tests I plan to perform are largely dietary in nature, so nothing invasive, or painful.”

“Dietary, what do you mean?” Louis said.

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t even explained. Here I am badgering on and on, and I haven’t even explained Harold’s dietary requirements. You see that is how we made Harold better. We fed him. Yes, yes I know he wasn’t eating your breast milk or formula. The reason for that is because Zombies cannot eat regular food like you and I do. They require blood, human flesh and human organs, and the particularly like brains.”

George and Louis looked horrified. “Blood, and brains, that’s disgusting! How are we supposed to feed him that?” George said.

“That’s part of the fun of the whole thing isn’t it? I wonder how a zombie will like it cooked? What a fascinating question I need to write that down. All of the zombies I have examined post mortem have had raw flesh and brains in their stomach. I wonder if Harold will enjoy not cooked or raw. Oh this is so wonderful!”

Doctor Frankenstein took out a small notepad from the inside pocket of his coat and began writing furiously. George and Louis looked like they didn’t know what to say or what to do. Louis was still holding Harold, but a little less affectionately and a little more like he would bite her any minute. Doctor Frankenstein after a few minutes stopped writing, and looked up. Interrupting the looks on their faces Doctor Frankenstein said “He’s not going to bite you my dear. He hasn’t got any teeth!” Amused by his own joke Doctor Frankenstein chuckled to himself, and then continued “Don’t look so frightened, Zombies generally don’t kill people. In my experience a Zombie will only kill if it hasn’t eaten in a VERY long time, and his instincts and hunger take over. We won’t have to kill anyone either, many of the things we will need to keep Harold full and happy can be acquired at local blood banks and county morgues.”

“How much will this all cost?” Louis said.

“Well, that’s the beauty of it. NOTHING! Not a dime! In return for letting me observe Harold throughout his life, I promise to make all the arrangements for Harold’s food, and pay for it. What do you say to that?”

“This is all a bit much. There are so many questions we have, and so many things that need to be thought about. Your offer is very kind, especially since neither of us would even know where to start with those sorts of things. Could we have time to think about all of this, and maybe come up with some questions we would like to ask?” Louis said.

“Of course, take all the time you need, but if there are any questions you want to ask know fire away.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

George and Louis looked at each other, and then the questions just started coming out at a rapid fire.

“Will he look normal, like everyone else?” Louis said.

“Yep, we just keep him well fed and no one will be able to tell the difference.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Will he be violent?” George said?

“No idea, I guess that depends on how you raise him.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Can he go to school, college, get married, have kids?” Louis said.

“Yes, yes, sure, and post mortem examinations show that Zombies are fully functional sexually.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Will he be smart?” George said.

“As long as we keep him on a balanced diet with brains, yes, you see Zombies use brains to help repair their own. With a balanced diet Zombies are as smart as you and I. With a concentrated diet, theory is they will become even smarter. A lacking diet, theory is they will become dumber, pardon the expression.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“What if people find out? Will they be mean to him? Will they try and hurt him? What do we do then?” Louis said

“Growing up is a hard thing to do my dear. Find me one person who won’t tell you, if they are being honest, that school and growing up wasn’t hard. I doubt you will be able to find anyone. We can cross that road when it gets here. I imagine it will be difficult for Harold, but I have a feeling with parents like you he will do just fine.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

George and Louis smiled at each other.

“Now if there are no more questions I will let you get about to coming up with more. My offer is on the table, and I promise I will do everything I can to help Harold, and protect him. I want to be a part of his life.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

George and Louis looked at each other one last time. Finally they both nodded their heads. Louis looked up at Doctor Frankenstein and said “Welcome to the family Doctor.”

“Please, please call me Igor.”

Read Chapter 4 HERE

Chapter Two – Harold The Zombie

Read Chapter One

Doctor Igor Frankenstein arrived quietly in the night 24 hours later, and it was raining hard when his taxi pulled up to the hospital.  As he stepped out of the taxi a flash of lightning revealed he was a tall man wearing a dark trench coat. In his hand he held a large leather doctors bag, and a small suitcase in the other. He made his way quickly inside where Doctor Mills was waiting for him.

“Doctor Frankenstein thanks for coming on such short notice.” Doctor Mills said.

“Where is the child? I need to see him immediately. I assume you have been unable to feed him, and anything he does actually eat he eventually will throw up….yes?” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Umm yes Doctor that is correct. The child is only two days old, but he looks like he is on death’s door. I have never seen such a decline in health. When I delivered him he was healthy as an ox I assure you. I had him moved to the ICU 24 hours ago as a precaution. I never expected such a rapid need for him to be there. Anything you need just let me know, the hospital’s resources are at your disposal.” Doctor Mills said.

“Thank you Doctor, as a matter of fact there are some things I will need. I need full access to the hospital’s blood bank supply. I will also need the child set up in a private room away from anyone who might have wandering eyes. Oh and I will also need a list of the recently deceased in your morgue who are donors. I appreciate your hospitality, and understanding in this sensitive matter.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

Doctor Mills just nodded his head. Over the last 48 hours he had hardly slept, and spent most of his waking hours researching information on Zombies. Most of what he had found he was sure false, and superstitious nonsense, but some of what he had found had to be truth. The information on diet was what frightened him the most. From what he was able to gather Zombies lived off the flesh and blood of dead humans. For unknown reasons this seemed to sustain their bodies, and keep them alive. Several sites even suggested that brains were a popular favorite of the Zombie race. Reading that helped Doctor Mills understand why many Zombie infants were killed. He was ashamed to admit to it, but even he had thought about ending Harold’s life. If Harold was going to grow up to kill and eat humans, would it not be better to stop it now before he was overcome by hunger and hurt someone?

“You’re welcome. I will be happy to arrange all these things for you. Now if you will follow me I will take you to the child.” Doctor Mills said.

As the two started walking down the hallway of the hospital Doctor Mills couldn’t help but wonder what Doctor Frankenstein’s plan was. In his entire medical career he had never come across something like this. The idea that he had delivered a Zombie both frightened and excited him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, and so many questions that he feared the answers to.

“Doctor Frankenstein, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about Harold?” Doctor Mills said.

Doctor Frankenstein stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to face Doctor Mills.

“Harold? His parents named him?” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“Yes sir. They named him after one of their fathers. I don’t remember which one, but his parents are very concerned about Harold. Since putting him in ICU George, that’s Harold’s Father, has hardly left the observation window. His mother Louis has made it as often as she can, but she is still recovering from the birth, and with the transfusions of blood, her body is just not strong enough yet. She needs her rest.” Doctor Mills said.

Doctor Frankenstein looked stunned. “Did you tell the parents what he is?”

“Yes sir. They took it as well as one would expect, but after an hour or so of thought all they could think about was the well being of their child Zombie or not.”

If Doctor Frankenstein had looked stunned before now he really looked stunned. He had been studying Zombies for most of his adult life, and never had he run across a couple that cared about the child after they discovered what it was. Most had succeeded or tried to kill the child, given the child up for adoption or in some cases just abandoned the child somewhere. Never had he run across a couple that, even knowing what the child was, still cared about it.

Shaking his head he snapped himself out of the shock, and focused back on the task at hand. He needed to get to Harold, and fast. Two days without food for a Zombie newborn could not lend itself to good things.

A half hour later Doctor Frankenstein had Harold in a private room, fresh blood, and was working on a list of body parts he needed brought up from the morgue immediately. Doctor Mills had no idea about the list, but he was watching anxiously to see what Doctor Frankenstein planned on doing. After a few moments the list was finished.

“I need this list taken down to the morgue immediately. These items are to be taken from donors, and brought up as soon as possible. No questions are to be answered about why or where. Is that understood?”

Doctor Mills looked at the list, a kidney, 2lbs of brain, an arm, and a leg, one eyeball, and finally a heart. “What are you planning on doing with all of these things Doctor Frankenstein?” Doctor Mills said.

“My dear boy, I thought you said on the phone that you had knowledge of Zombies?” Doctor Frankenstein said

“Well I do, a little. Everything I know I learned in the past 48 hours. I read a lot on what a Zombie eats. But Harold is only a child. Surely you don’t think an infant could eat all this do you? It is your intention to feed this to Harold, isn’t it?”

“My good doctor, there is so much about Zombies we simply don’t know. With only a few documented cases, and most of them dead it’s hard to say what our little Zombie infant here is capable of. For now I know one thing he needs food. Blood should get him back to health, but after that it’s going to be a wondrous adventure into the unknown and only so far theorized.”

The impact of that statement hit Doctor Mills like a baseball bat. “You mean to say Harold could be the first recorded Zombie ever to be studied…ALIVE?!”

“Yes! Yes! Now you understand. I have traveled the world studying Zombies. Every lead or even hint I would follow. I have found dead Zombies and studied their anatomy, I have researched far into the legends, and superstitions, I have even gone as far as studying the occult and necromancy to try and understand these wonderful creations of nature. But despite all my searching, studying, and travels, I have never been able to come upon a live Zombie. Now Doctor I need to work. Please see to getting me the items on that list. There isn’t a rush, but I will take them as soon as they are reasonably ready. No need to tick off the morgue staff.”

Doctor Mills hesitated in the doorway. Doctor Frankenstein turned and saw Doctor Mills still standing there. “What are you waiting for my dear boy?”

“With all due respect Doctor, I would like to stay and see you work. I delivered Harold, and he is still in my care. I want to know that he is ok. You may have not found anyone who can care about a Zombie, but Harold’s parents are not the only ones who would like to see that child live!”

“So it would seem. Come doctor you may watch, but stay clear of me. I need room to move.”

Doctor Mills hesitated for only a second before coming into the room, and setting himself on the far side near the window. Doctor Frankenstein pulled a small knife out from his back pocket, and sliced through the top of the first bag of blood. Slowly he poured the blood into a small metal bowl. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a small dropper, and placed the tip of the dropper into the blood. Using the suction of the dropper Doctor Frankenstein pulled the blood into the dropper. He then turned his attention to Harold.

Harold looked sick and dying. Only 48 hours ago he looked, and sounded like any other new born. Now his skin was pale and ashen, his lips were cracked, and he hardly made sounds past whimpers. Doctor Frankenstein gently tilted Harold’s head back and placed the dropper of blood to Harold’s lips. Slowly drop by drop Harold started to feed on the blood. It took a few minutes, but it seemed that with each new drop Harold started to seem more active. At first it was just a hand or finger twitch, and then it was a leg raise, but slowly Harold started to move. After 30 minutes the entire first bag of blood was gone, and Harold was sucking the dropper dry in a matter of seconds. Doctor Frankenstein looked up at Doctor Mills and said “We are going to need more blood, and Doctor you better get me a bottle.”

An hour later Harold had gone through 5 bags of blood, and was looking healthy and alive. Harold was even smiling. Doctors Frankenstein and Mills sat back and laughed.

“Doctor Frankenstein, how on earth did he do that? He was on death’s door step, and with a hour and a half we seem to have brought him back from the dead.”

“Yes it does appear that way doesn’t it my dear boy. You see the answer is within Harold himself. Zombies are incapable of producing their own blood, much like vampires. Zombies need the blood to survive; they are born without a stomach or a heart as you and I are. Instead they are born with a hybrid heart and stomach. The two are linked, and helps the Zombie transfer fresh blood directly into their veins. Further this stomach heart combination helps the Zombie digest flesh. Flesh that is so desperately needed to rebuild, grow, and repair its body. It really is very fascinating!”

Doctor Mills swallowed a nervous gulp of air. “Did you say Vampires?” Doctor Mills had always been afraid of Vampires, ever since his older brother had scared him wearing a vampire outfit when he was younger.

“Is that all you absorbed from my previous statements Doctor? Of everything I said the ONE thing you focus on is there are Vampires in this world! Good God man, get some perspective. Of course Vampires are real. You stand in the same room as a Zombie, and you really have to wonder if Vampires exist. You call yourself a Doctor. You see there are a lot of things about this world that many people don’t know, or choose not to know or to believe. Zombies and Vampires are just two examples. Honestly!”

Doctor Mills looked like his entire world had just been shattered. Never had he really thought that these things could be real. And now Doctor Mills was right he was standing in the room with a Zombie, and a Zombie expert. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but since most of them were about Vampires he decided to hold his tongue.

“Doctor you still have not explained why Harold was on death’s door only a short time ago, and now seems healthy as any baby his age should be.” Doctor Mills said.

“Ah that’s right! I do apologize I have a tendency to run off on terrible tangents. Now where was I? Yes, I remember. You see when a Zombie drinks blood the blood is then immediately transferred into its veins which distributes the blood to the whole body, the body then absorbs the blood helping it to create new cells and grow. Now while a Zombie could very much survive on blood alone, which is why many may be confused with Vampires I suppose, Zombies require a varied diet of fresh blood, human flesh, different kinds of organs, and above all brains.”

“Brains, why brains?” Doctor Mills said.

“That’s a very good question. We are not really sure. Keep in mind that Harold is the first living Zombie anyone has ever been able to study. Perhaps Harold holds the key to unlocking many of the great Zombie mysteries. What I do know is that many believe that without a rich and balanced diet the Zombie will suffer some terrible side effects. Rotting flesh, decrease in memory and intelligence, slurred speech, and above all cravings.”

“What do you mean cravings.” Doctor Mills said. “Well you see Doctor without a balanced diet a Zombie will start to feel cravings for those things he is missing in his diet. It’s very animalistic I suppose, and theory is that eventually it will drive the Zombie mad causing the Zombie to seek out and find the thing his body is craving. Unfortunately this generally means that someone will have to die in the process.”

“I guess it’s hard to reason with a Zombie if they see you as food.” Doctor Mills said.

“Exactly!” Doctor Frankenstein said.

“So what do we do now? What happens to Harold now?” Doctor Mills said.

“Now we talk to the parents. I am very interested in meeting these fine people who care for their child despite the fact that they know what he is. Remarkable, simply remarkable.” Doctor Frankenstein said.

Read Chapter Three HERE


Harold The Zombie – Chapter One

Harold was born to George and Louis Baker on December 25, 1981. The couple was so excited that when time came for them to rush to the hospital, they did so with smiles on their faces. Finally, after 9 long months they would get to meet their son.

The pregnancy had been hard on Louis, and the doctors had tried as hard as they could to make her comfortable throughout the pregnancy. Louis early on had started losing red blood cells. Her doctors ran every test on and off the books they could think of, but could never find out why. Without a cause they were at an impasse for finding a cure, so instead they settled on a band aid, weekly blood transfusions. While not a permanent solution the doctors insisted something had to be done otherwise both Louis and the baby were at risk. The infusions did their job by providing Louis with the much needed blood, and doctors continued to be baffled as every week the fresh blood that was pumped into her would be gone in a week’s time. What surprised the doctors even more is that despite the lack of blood both baby and mother were healthy, as long as the infusions continued.

George was excited for many reasons tonight. He had long suspected that Louis was losing blood due to the pregnancy, and he hoped that once his son was born Louis would be able to return to her normal self. He was also terrified that something might go wrong during the birth. He loved his wife very much and he didn’t want to lose her.  What scared him even more was the idea of being left to care for a child alone. Of course he didn’t mention any of this to his wife. He just put on a smile, and told her that everything was going to be fine.

As they pulled into the hospital their doctor, and a team of nurses were waiting for them, and before George could say anything Louis was in a wheelchair and off to get ready for the birth. Doctor Jake Mills gave George an affectionate punch on the shoulder.

“So today is the big day huh George.”

“Yes, yes it is. Is she going to be alright? I would never tell her this, but I am worried. What if something goes wrong? What if there are complications? What if the baby doesn’t want to come out? What if….”

“George, George it’s going to be ok.” Doctor Mills said with a chuckle and a smile. “I have performed hundreds of these. Your wife is healthy even with her strange blood disorder, and the baby is fine. All the tests show he is strong as an ox, and even your wife says he punches and kicks like a hammer. Don’t worry all is in hand. We will have your son out in no time flat, and you will see that everything is going to be just fine.”

“I guess so.”

George wasn’t entirely convinced, but Doctor Mill’s words did make him feel a little better. As George washed up and put on the backwards gown, booties, and hat, he thought about what his son would be like. What would he grow up to be, a doctor, lawyer, maybe a world renowned scientist? George himself was a scientist, and worked with algae. Not the most exciting career, but it paid the bills and George enjoyed what he did. He was never cut out to be in the spotlight, but he hoped his son would be. He wanted great things for his son, for him to be different, unique, and special. He had no idea just how special his son was going to be.

The delivery, as deliveries go was not a particularly difficult one. Louis was in labor only a few short hours, and before they knew it their son was born. As the doctors worked at cleaning him off and wrapping him to keep him warm, the nurses prepared the cord to be cut. After all was ready they asked George if he would like to cut the cord. As soon as the cord was cut the baby started to cry, but no one took any notice, because that’s what newborns do, they cry.

Handing the small infant to his mother both George and Louis looked at their new son.

“What should we call him?” Louis asked

“I was always partial to your dad’s name.” George responded “He was a good man, and raised a good family. I think he would be proud to have his first grandson named after him, if he were still with us.”

“He always hated his name.” Louis laughed “I loved it, and I think you’re right lets name him after Dad.”

Louis looked down on the crying baby in her arms, and said “Hello Harold, welcome to the world.”

The next few hours after Harold was born were routine. Blood was drawn, swabs were taken, and tests began. The doctors wanted to make sure everything was absolutely normal with Harold. What they would find would shock them all.

24 hours later Doctor Mills stood in front of George and Louis trying to explain what they had found.

zombie_baby_by_parasite3-d51g4wf“He’s a WHAT!?” Louis screamed tears starting to form on the edge of her tired eyes.

“The scientific name is Homo Coprophagus Somnambulus or more commonly referred to as a Zombie.” Doctor Mills said looking just as tired as Louis. Only a few hours after Harold birth tests started coming up with stranger and stranger results. Doctor Mills at first couldn’t make sense of it all, and had spent the entire night up researching and studying what it all meant.

“You have to be mistaken! Our child can’t be a…Zombie!” George had trouble even saying the word.

“I am afraid it’s true. I have run every test in and off the books that I know of. Being a Zombie is an incredibly rare and largely mysterious genetic birth defect. While your child is human, despite what many movies, and television shows would have you believe, he is wired differently than you and I. As far as I can tell his stomach, heart, and brain function much different.”

“What does that mean?” Louis screamed finally giving in to the tears.

“Frankly, I don’t know. This is well beyond my medical knowledge, so I have called in a specialist. In fact the world’s leading expert in Zombies is on his way, and will be here in a day or two. His name is Doctor Igor Frankenstein.”

“There are specialists in this sort of thing? Does that mean they can fix Harold? Can this Frankenstein make Harold better, normal?” George Said.

“I don’t know, and I make you no promises. From what I was able to find last night, and this morning there have only been about 1000 or so documented cases of Zombie births. Most of those infants were killed, and so very little information could be collected.” Doctor Mills said.

“Killed? By who? Why?” Louis said.

“I don’t really know. Probably the infants were killed either by a parent or both, maybe the doctors. As for why, my best guess would be fear, shame, hate. In cases like this records are never kept well I would imagine.” Doctor Mills said.

Both Louis, and George looked horrified. While their son may be a Zombie, the very thought of killing him and brushing the whole thing under the run seemed inhuman.

“Doctor, is Harold’s….condition the reason he won’t eat. Every time I feed him he sucks me dry, and then within minutes throws in all up.” Louis said.

“From what I can gather children like Harold have specific dietary requirements. I don’t understand the whole thing myself, but I know Doctor Frankenstein can explain it better that I ever could. Like I said he should be here by tomorrow, and hopefully we can all get some answers.” Doctor Mills said

“What is Harold suppose to eat until then? It’s only been a day and already he is looking sick and pale.” Louis said.

“I don’t know. We are going to do everything we can. In preparation we have already moved Harold to the infant ICU, and are monitoring his condition by the minute. If anything happens between now and the time Doctor Frankenstein gets here we will do the best we can, I promise.” Doctor Mills said.

Louis broke into another round of sobbing, while George sat on the side of the bed holding her, and stroking her hair. None of them knew what to do.

Read Chapter Two


Goodbye 2016

…and good riddance!  I think I can speak for most people when I say 2016 was not the greatest year in the history of mankind.  As I have looked out on social media I have read hundreds of posts talking about 2016 being hard on so many people.

For myself 2016 has been challenging to say the least, but I think I can honestly say I am looking forward to 2017 with a hopeful attitude.

I will be honest I have some pretty big goals for 2017 and it will take an extraordinary amount of effort and focus to accomplish them.

I am not ready to share with you all everything I have planned just yet, but I can give you a few things to look forward to in the days and weeks to come.

  1. I will start posting on this blog on a more regular basis. This will include at bare minimum at least one post each week (probably on Wednesdays).
  2. I will be producing at least one big creative project every 3 months.  These projects could be in the form of writing, video, song, etc.  Each quarter will be a surprise.
  3. Obviously the publication of Lucifer is on the horizon and we will be announcing that very soon.
  4. You will also notice a few new posts to my social media sites, including photos, workouts, and maybe even a few videos.

So goodbye 2016.  Given the full range of various tortures you put us all through I can’t say I am sorry to see you go, but I can say I am excited to see the beginning of 2017.

Let the future begin!

They Aren’t Coming

What is it about books and stories that fascinate us so much?  Why do we, as human beings, attach ourselves to the heros of these stories, and read with fervent interest in their adventures?  Is it really that we hope that one day someone will come and tell us we are a wizard, or ask us to go on an adventure?  Do we secretly hope that someday someone will come and take us away from our routine lives, and tell us we are special?

I’ve noticed that many of the stories I enjoy are about ordinary people, who have extraordinary experiences thrust upon them. Captain America was a less than ordinary human with a drive to achieve.  Bilbo Baggins was an ordinary Hobbit who was very happy with his peaceful life.  Harry Potter was just a boy who wanted to be loved.


Are stories like these, and so many others, clues to how we feel as a society?  Do we feel helpless and powerless over the events taking place in our own lives, and if we do, is there anything we can do to change it?

I know many people, including myself are feeling restless with the current state of our country.  Many of the posts I have seen online show a building frustration, and fear of helplessness with the events going on.  I myself have found a certain sense of irritation as accepted truths fall, and lies are exposed.

Just to give you a few examples of some of the things bothering me as of late…

  1. Our political system is a joke, and we have a candidate running for president who has no regard for the people he claims he wants to serve and represent.
  2. Some of the articles and books I have read about what is being put into our food, and even how food, and animals are treated sickens me.
  3. I’ve struggled with religion most of my life, but recently some of the hateful and borderline violent things I’ve seen in the last few days, all in the name of God or religion is depressing.

With all this and more going on in the world it’s understandable why so many feel a sense of unease, restlessness, and fear.  But the reality is, no one is coming to save us.  Hagrid isn’t coming, and I am pretty sure Gandalf is lost. So how do we rise above all that is going on?  If we know that no one is coming, how do we become our own kind of hero?

We certainly have enough evil villains to fight, but the question is how?  How do we take action that will actually make a difference?  How do we fight the bad guys and win?

Chapter 6

If you missed Chapter 5 you can read it here.

I wandered through the rest of the day at school in an almost dream like stupor.  Never before in my entire life had a dream felt so real.  Was it a dream?  If it was how did I explain the bite on my leg?

I decided to skip 4rth period for many, many reasons, and instead went to the library.  I spent the hour reading everything I could find on dreams, meanings, interpretations, etc. Some of what I read was really scary.

One author theorized that our dreams could even manifest in reality.  Could that explain the bite on my leg?

When school was over I walked home.  Step by step I took everything in.  Normally I would listen to music.  Daisily drifting along, not really paying attention to my surroundings. Not today.  Today I noticed every rock, every tree, the way Mrs. Waterman pranced around her house in her underwear oblivious to the fact that her blinds were open.  Everything.

When I got home a feeling of both excitement and dread started to creep up from the pit of my stomach.  Twisting and turning my emotions into knots like a pair of headphones that have sat at the bottom of your bag for weeks.

I stood there, in front of my house staring at the front door.  Should I go in?  Of course I should go in.  Why wouldn’t I go in?  It was my house afterall.  But standing there, looking at it, something felt wrong.  Something wasn’t right.

I shook my head, steadied myself and walked up to the front door.  This was silly.  It was just a dream.  A really powerful, confusing, emotionally scary dream, but it was still just a dream!

I had almost gotten myself under control when I looked down at the door handle, and for the first time noticed that the front door to my house was slightly ajar.

I froze, not daring to move.  It wasn’t until my brain and body started screaming for oxygen that I realized I had been holding my breath.

With a gasping breath I somewhat steadied myself and pushed open the front door.

My home was exactly the way I remembered it.  Clean, put together, and all the furniture in the right place.

I walked inside and called out to see if anyone was home.  The house remained unsettlingly quiet.

Carefully I crept into the kitchen looking around.  Was someone suppose to be home? What time would mom be getting back from picking up my sister from ballet?

I sat down at the kitchen table and took a heavy breath.

That is when I noticed the envelope sitting on the table with my name on it.  It was an old envelope weathered and yellow.  My name was written on the front in what could have only been a calligraphy pen of some sort.  Given the droplets of ink it might have even been done with an old ink and quill set.  Picking it up and turning it over I noticed a crimson wax seal.  I could make out the shape of a Y pressed deeply into the wax.

What the hell was this?

I broke the wax seal and pulled out a piece of weathered old parchment.  The handwriting was written in the same beautiful calligraphy as my name on the front of the envelop.

It read “Declan, by the time you read this you will have returned to your own time.  I am sure you are confused, and I am sorry for that.  Events are in motion, and I don’t know why but YOU are at the center of them.

iStock_000012456491SmallIf you are reading this at the time and place I think you are the world is coming close to an almost catastrophic event.  One that will change everything.  You have been given a small glimpse of what is to come.

I am still working out how, but it seems that you may be able to stop it, or at least warn people it’s coming.  However that time has not yet come.  You need to let events unfold naturally, and some of them are going to be very hard for you to get through.  I’m sorry for that.  There is no other way around it.

In a few short hours I believe you will join me here, again.  I am making preparations to show you the things you need to know.  When it happens please follow my instructions this time.  Our time together is very short and very brief.

In the meantime make yourself a sandwich.  Enjoy your time with family.  We will talk soon.


P.S. Sorry about the dog bite, but I had to wake you up before the sun came up.”



Nice Guys vs. Assholes

Do you remember what it was like growing up as a kid?  Most of us would really have to think about it to remember the absolute freedom that came from being a child.  As children we didn’t have to worry about religion, gender roles, homosexuality, or race.  We saw the other little children as playmates, friends, and equals.

As a child there were no expectations, and I certainly did not have to worry about being “too nice” with anyone.  I could just be myself.  We all could.

That is when the travesty of life happened to all of us.  Adults.

As children we are fresh, new, and everything around us is a wonder, but as we age the adults in our lives feel it’s necessary to “teach” us what it is to be a man or a women.  It’s important to them that we follow the same set of social constructs that were taught to them including political affiliations, religious views, how to dress, what music to listen to, what shows to watch, and how to behave.

With all of this enormous pressure we begin to change.  We adopt views and opinions more out of obligation than we do actual belief.  We allow ourselves to be defined by the expectations of others, and so our life is molded from the outside in.

This outside definition of who I was suppose to be, and how I was suppose to act was very difficult on me.  I constantly questioned everything, and wanted to know why certain things were just accepted as truth.  This unwillingness to “conform” made me a lot of enemies, and earned me my fair share of beatings on the elementary school bus.

By the time I entered the 8th grade I had been beaten up enough times that I was ready to “conform.”  I wanted to be “normal” whatever that meant.  I was starting at a new school in a new state, where no one knew me.  I could be anything I wanted to be, and I wanted to be the kind of guy who had a girlfriend.

Now it is safe to say that my first relationship I was the “nice guy.”  I held her hand at nice_guy_11lunch, I brought her roses that I had picked from my Dad’s garden, I carried her books to class, and basically put her needs, wants, and emotions in front of my own.

I was a doormat.

Needless to say that relationship didn’t last long.  We broke up, and she moved on to another kind of boyfriend.

He was rude, mean, started a lot of fights, and generally ignored my previous girlfriend. And yet she hung on his every word.  Followed him around school like a puppy.  Fought hard for his small affections.  In fact she seemed to even like that he ignored her, and treated her like an accessory.  It seemed to make her work that much harder.

The classic case of “nice guy” vs “asshole.”

Growing up no one wanted to be the “nice guy.”  It was akin to being dumped in the friend zone.

So misguided as we were “nice guys” like myself would try to mimic “assholes.”  This never worked out well in our favor, and often ended up in disaster.  Leaving us even more confused, misguided, and lost.

For many years I would ping pong back and forth between nice guy and asshole, and with each relationship I would learn, often painfully, things about each side of the spectrum.

  • Nice Guys

Nice guys will often put others needs and emotions ahead of their own.  Sometimes even at the cost of their own dignity.  Their partner takes advantage of them, breaks all their limits and boundaries, and when the nice guy has finally had enough, when they finally explode, they have no idea how to communicate with their partner. In their mind expressing their limits, boundaries, and expectations would mean a loss of love and abandonment from their partner.

Nice guys do not like being treated like shit.  In fact they resent it, and hate themselves for putting up with it.

In most cases they stay quiet, withdrawn, angry.  Walls begin forming around their emotions and heart.  All the while living with a heavy heart, and broken spirit.

And do you know where all of this comes from?

Not being able to express the kind of love they both want and need.

  • Assholes

Now I have already told you that I was the “nice guy” in several relationships.  But truth be told I have also been in relationships where I was the “asshole.”  These relationships generally were on the heels of one of my “nice guy” relationships.

189584-Bitch-Asshole-CycleI had been treated badly by someone I cared about, so I needed to balance the scales.

This never worked out well for me.

I would form connections with women, but I would never let them into my heart or my life.  I kept them at a distance, and dissociated any emotion with sex.  I was fake.  I lied about who I was, and despite the fact that I was now getting attention from sometimes some wonderful women, I was still falling victim to the same issue I had as a “nice guy.”

I wasn’t expressing the kind of love I wanted and needed.

Sure I wasn’t a doormat anymore, and I certainly had boundaries in place, but there was no authenticity to the relationship.

So what did I learn from being both a “nice guy” and an “asshole?”

In any relationship it’s important to communicate the kind of love you want and expect.  You can’t be a doormat, and you certainly can’t be an asshole.  You need balance.

It’s true, by telling your partner honestly the kind of love you want and need may in fact mean the end of your relationship.  It may cost you the person you love either because they or unwilling or unable to provide you with the kind of love you want and need.

It’s also true that by being open, honest, and communicating you may open a vulnerability within your protective boundaries.  A vulnerability that your partner may exploit or use to their advantage.

But what if they don’t?

What if you are open and honest and they don’t leave?  What if you expose yourself and they don’t use it against you?

It’s in that moment of perfect understanding and clarity that you could have everything you have ever wanted and needed.

Don’t get me wrong.  Relationships take work, and time to build, but it’s my opinion that when a person finds that balance, expresses honest empathy, sets up realistic boundaries, knows their own worth, and choose to be neither a doormat or an asshole, that it could lead to something amazing.


Submitted Writing From The Good Witch

Writing is almost a form of meditation to me. When I feel my body start to tense or my muscles refuse to relax I know I have gone too long without putting pen to paper.

Writing prompts have been a wonderful source of creativity for me.  It’s just a small push, and nudge in the right direction.  Just something to get me started, and let my creative juices start to flow.

For the last year I have been posting writing prompts on my blog, and this past week one of my Twitter followers The Good Witch emailed me a short story she had written from one of my prompts.

I’d like to share with all of you now.

The air quickly left his lungs after hearing the truth. How could his father have lied to him all these years? How could he now reveal his true identity of being the man who raised him but not the man who gave him life? His lungs desperately tried to inhale but the weight of the situation left him drowning in air. His body felt heavy and just to lift his hand up to cover his mouth was as if he were stuck in a rip tide. He couldn’t control anything around him. He couldn’t move his legs in order to run away for they felt as if they were buried in cement. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and his throat closing up if only to prevent him from vomiting after the initial shock.

His eyes filled with tears as he closed them. How could this be the truth of his world? Everything he knew from before came crashing down. Now all he could feel was his body floating and drifting deeper and deeper down in a sea of air that consumed him.

It’s Time To Reset

Recently Wil Wheaton did a life reset, and started writing about it on his blog.  I’ve been following his progress with great interest, and have been happy to see his results thus far.

I am always happy to see someone succeed at making positive changes in their life. Change is hard, and it is not something we will only have to face once. So after almost a year of taking a break on goals and ambitions I have decided to follow Wil’s example and do a hard reset of my own.


I will be honest I am not looking forward to the next week or two, because, as I used to tell my clients, the first week is always the hardest.

Here is the breakdown of my goals…

  1. Fitness & Health – Improve my overall health through proper eating, exercise, and sleep.
  2. Money – Improve my money by creating a budget, tracking all expenses, and saving 10% of all income.
  3. Creative Projects – Add to the world in a positive way by creating good groups, events, and activities.
  4. Writing and Reading – Read and write more.
  5. Associations – Improve my inner circle by looking for good friendships, and improving existing friendships.

Now I know what you are thinking…Most of these goals are a bit, vague. Not to worry, with each goal I have written specific and measurable steps that will help me accomplish the overall idea.

For example…

Fitness & Health

  1. Complete 156 workouts – Workouts must last longer then 30 minutes.
  2. Start eating a healthy breakfast, lunch and dinner.
  3. Sleep 8 hours per night – For the moment hours of rest are 12-8.
  4. Meditate daily – Using the app HeadSpace.

I apologize, but I won’t be sharing the steps of each goal with you here.  Some of them are private, and only between me, myself, and I.  However I will be grading myself each week, and giving small “accountability” posts each week.

It is my hope, that by doing this I can improve the quality of my life.  Something I have very much been in need of for some time.

So wish me luck, unto the breach, and away I go!