 | Special Message From Principle Lorde' Desdemona |
This Edition of the UnDead Student Newsletter features the exclusive short story Old Dogs by Marla So. It will bring a tear to your eye. Also there is an introduction by Murder Mystery author Assaph Mehr who is the History Professor for UnDead Prom.
Next week's edition will feature the first part of Assaph Mehr's exclusive release of his UnDead story Shade's Shadow. The story is certainly his darkest story to date and we are proud to be the first to share the story!
This edition also features the announcement of a final Pre-Sale tickets of UnDead Prom & Murder Mystery tickets before October. Starting in October ticket prices will be discounted at $35 for UnDead Prom only tickets and still $55 for Murder Mystery Participants. Ticket prices go back to original pricing starting Monday October 17th. Limited tickets will be available the same day and will be available on a first come first serve basis.
Next week's edition will feature the first part of Assaph Mehr's exclusive release of his UnDead story Shade's Shadow. The story is certainly his darkest story to date and we are proud to be the first to share the story!
This edition also features the announcement of a final Pre-Sale tickets of UnDead Prom & Murder Mystery tickets before October. Starting in October ticket prices will be discounted at $35 for UnDead Prom only tickets and still $55 for Murder Mystery Participants. Ticket prices go back to original pricing starting Monday October 17th. Limited tickets will be available the same day and will be available on a first come first serve basis.
 | Old Dogs By: Marla So |
“Dad, I’m sorry. I can’t go to you right now,” said Beverly, voice dim with static. “I have to drive to the preschool and pick up Adam before...” A sob. “Before the zombies get to him. D-don’t worry. There aren’t a lot of them in your area. I- I have to go now, Dad. I love you.”
Before Frank could protest, his daughter hung up. He swore and threw the phone at his sofa. No use trying to call her again. He didn’t know how to operate it, same as with almost every other thing in the godforsaken house. They were birthday presents from Bev, peace offerings to make up for visiting only during the holidays.
Something nuzzled at his pant leg.
Frank looked at the mutt Bev had gotten him for his fiftieth. She was a wrinkled thing with sad eyes, old and bent. What breed she was, he wasn’t sure. His daughter had gotten her from a shelter. Frank hadn’t bothered to name her, had thought she would die within a year, but the dog clung to life with a stubbornness he had to respect.
He gave her one last pat on the head, knowing he wouldn’t bring her along. It wasn’t practical. Then again, most of Bev’s gifts weren’t: a fancy knife set, golf clubs, abstract paintings that made Adam’s doodles look like Picassos, installing doors made of sliding glass...
Before he even registered the crash, Frank ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cleaver. He saw a zombie lurching down the hall. Once it was within range, he slashed at it. Thick blood spurted out of the gaping wound on its neck, coating Frank’s arms and chest. It grabbed his shoulders, jaws wide.
Frank tried grappling with it but was easily thrown down. The cleaver clattered against the tiles. He scrambled towards it, blood pounding between his ears. His shaking fingers wrapped around the handle. He heard a bark, just as the shadow of the zombie fell upon him. Frank turned around and saw the dog biting into his attacker’s calf. It kicked her aside, but the stupid thing kept coming at it. The dog launched himself at the monster’s chest, a flash of teeth and fangs. The zombie retaliated by sinking its teeth into her fur.
Body on autopilot, Frank rushed forward and hit the back of the zombie’s head. He brought the cleaver down once, twice, more and more times until it finally moved no more.
All was still. Frank panted, arm aching from the strain. More groans emanated from the living room. His dog weakly pushed herself up. She faced the hallway only to collapse into a whimpering mess. Frank ran a bloody hand over her fur, consoling her. A zombie appeared. Despite being no more than a few feet away, it did not attack. It raised its head and sniffed at the air.
Kind of like a dog, Frank thought. His eyes turned to his old companion.
#
Moping about not being the top priority in Bev’s life wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Frank decided. If she wasn’t going to come to him, then he was going to drive to her. He drove out of the garage. His car glistened with a light patina of zombie blood. Old Biter slept in a dog carrier in the backseat. Her eyes were white with the virus. A muzzle was securely fastened around her snout.
Before Frank could protest, his daughter hung up. He swore and threw the phone at his sofa. No use trying to call her again. He didn’t know how to operate it, same as with almost every other thing in the godforsaken house. They were birthday presents from Bev, peace offerings to make up for visiting only during the holidays.
Something nuzzled at his pant leg.
Frank looked at the mutt Bev had gotten him for his fiftieth. She was a wrinkled thing with sad eyes, old and bent. What breed she was, he wasn’t sure. His daughter had gotten her from a shelter. Frank hadn’t bothered to name her, had thought she would die within a year, but the dog clung to life with a stubbornness he had to respect.
He gave her one last pat on the head, knowing he wouldn’t bring her along. It wasn’t practical. Then again, most of Bev’s gifts weren’t: a fancy knife set, golf clubs, abstract paintings that made Adam’s doodles look like Picassos, installing doors made of sliding glass...
Before he even registered the crash, Frank ran to the kitchen and grabbed a cleaver. He saw a zombie lurching down the hall. Once it was within range, he slashed at it. Thick blood spurted out of the gaping wound on its neck, coating Frank’s arms and chest. It grabbed his shoulders, jaws wide.
Frank tried grappling with it but was easily thrown down. The cleaver clattered against the tiles. He scrambled towards it, blood pounding between his ears. His shaking fingers wrapped around the handle. He heard a bark, just as the shadow of the zombie fell upon him. Frank turned around and saw the dog biting into his attacker’s calf. It kicked her aside, but the stupid thing kept coming at it. The dog launched himself at the monster’s chest, a flash of teeth and fangs. The zombie retaliated by sinking its teeth into her fur.
Body on autopilot, Frank rushed forward and hit the back of the zombie’s head. He brought the cleaver down once, twice, more and more times until it finally moved no more.
All was still. Frank panted, arm aching from the strain. More groans emanated from the living room. His dog weakly pushed herself up. She faced the hallway only to collapse into a whimpering mess. Frank ran a bloody hand over her fur, consoling her. A zombie appeared. Despite being no more than a few feet away, it did not attack. It raised its head and sniffed at the air.
Kind of like a dog, Frank thought. His eyes turned to his old companion.
#
Moping about not being the top priority in Bev’s life wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Frank decided. If she wasn’t going to come to him, then he was going to drive to her. He drove out of the garage. His car glistened with a light patina of zombie blood. Old Biter slept in a dog carrier in the backseat. Her eyes were white with the virus. A muzzle was securely fastened around her snout.
 | From Our History Professor Assaph Mehr |
Guests of the UnDead Prom share that quintessential human interest with what lies behind the veil of life. It might not surprise them that humans throughout the ages have come up with a myriad of descriptions, explanations, and stories about what happens to those who cross the threshold -- and those who might cross back.
For tonight's lesson, we will study a witness' account from a the times of ancient Rome.
First, a minor quibble. Roman mythology is not just Greek mythology with Latin names. Well before Greek influences took hold, Romans had their own beliefs -- including beliefs about a plethora of chthonic deities. While some elements might seem familiar - such as the ferryman across the river Styx - the Romans had their own views about what happens to the souls of the dead.
In particular, tonight's lesson will focus about the lemures, the malignant remnants of once living people, left to roam the world due to unfinished business, often involving harm to other living creatures. They were bound by certain rules, such as when and how they might cross between the worlds.
A deeper discussion will follow, but first let us read the eye-witness account of an encounter with such ancient spirits of the dead.
For tonight's lesson, we will study a witness' account from a the times of ancient Rome.
First, a minor quibble. Roman mythology is not just Greek mythology with Latin names. Well before Greek influences took hold, Romans had their own beliefs -- including beliefs about a plethora of chthonic deities. While some elements might seem familiar - such as the ferryman across the river Styx - the Romans had their own views about what happens to the souls of the dead.
In particular, tonight's lesson will focus about the lemures, the malignant remnants of once living people, left to roam the world due to unfinished business, often involving harm to other living creatures. They were bound by certain rules, such as when and how they might cross between the worlds.
A deeper discussion will follow, but first let us read the eye-witness account of an encounter with such ancient spirits of the dead.
