47.
Underground Blues
The bucket she acquired from the mine might be just what she needed to help get Cupid’s bow out of the crypt, or that’s
what she hoped, thought Rosella as she groaned and struggled with the bulky wooden thing, approaching the
cemetery's edge.
Under the eerie glow of the moon, a dull fog curled between the weathered headstones of the graveyard. Tufts of tall
weeds swayed in the gentle evening wind giving the whole area a spooky feel. As Rosella grunted and huffed over
dragging the heavy wooden bucket into the cemetery, she paused thinking she suddenly heard her name. How could
that be? There was no one around. But she most certainly heard it. It came as a whisper, almost as though it were the
wind itself. The voice was that gentle. “Rosella” she heard it again.
“Who’s there?” Rosella asked trying to sum up the courage to confront her mysterious watcher. Once again, there was
nobody there. Tension began to run a tingling line up the slender princess’s back as the muscles in her limbs
tightened. She left the bucket where it was, and instead clenched her fists on her skirt with anxious fear. It was that
moment that she saw a silhouette hunched near one of the headstones. Rosella took cautious steps toward the
mysterious stranger. “H-hello? I’m, Rosella. Rosella of Daventry,” announced the nervous princess through a dry
throat. Her hopes to grab the stranger’s attention before startling him were dashed, as he seemed not to respond to
her timid girlish voice. Even in the moonlight he was hard to make out because he was stooped beneath the shadow of
one of the larger headstones.
“Hello?” Rosella tried again, this time, reaching a slender white hand into the shadow toward the stranger’s shoulder.
Before her trembling fingers could reach their mark, the stranger turned his head and looked Rosella straight in the
eyes. She shrieked from the bottom of her young heart with a terror she had never known. His eyes were a solid
glowing white, and his skin a sagging dull gray. He reached for the princess’s soft tender hand but she reeled back in
horror. Rosella turned to run full force from the monster and the Tamir cemetery itself, but upon turning around, she
was faced with an even greater horror. Similar gray hands were splitting the earth apart and lurching forth from the
ground all around the cemetery. One after another pairs of glowing white eyes haunted the darkness. They crawled
from the ground and peeked around the headstones, shambling toward the paralyzed princess. They desired her
young white flesh, her living flesh.
A horrified Rosella turned again and ran for her life. In her panicked forgetfulness she ran right into the one behind her,
effectively hugging the zombie. Her saucer blue eyes were all she could muster, as she could not even scream. The
decayed arms wrapped around her slender form and held her for a moment as her body went instantly cold. Rosella
opened her mouth to scream but she was already doomed. Her beautiful soft white skin wrinkled into a sour pale gray,
while her lush blonde hair dried out to a straw-like state fading to a deep charcoal. Her beautiful velvet vermilion gown
aged with fade and frays. The lovely sheer white nylons that encased her slender legs turned a putrid brown and
opened up with holes like a flame held near paper. The zombie then released Rosella’s rotten body as it dropped to the
ground. The princess’s fate however was not death. While she lived 17 years as a beautiful girl, she was doomed to
wander forever as the undead. Her collapsed body reanimated with the same glowing white eyes of the other zombies in
the graveyard. Her adventures had exhausted her to the point where had she felt dead on her feet, but THIS was
ridiculous!!! “Wander” over to the dry skin and hair products section of Tamir, Rosella, you need it!
-THE END
Try Again?
The bucket she acquired from the mine might be just what she needed to help get Cupid’s bow out of the crypt, or that’s
what she hoped, thought Rosella as she groaned and struggled with the bulky wooden thing, approaching the
cemetery's edge.
Under the eerie glow of the moon, a dull fog curled between the weathered headstones of the graveyard. Tufts of tall
weeds swayed in the gentle evening wind giving the whole area a spooky feel. As Rosella grunted and huffed over
dragging the heavy wooden bucket into the cemetery, she paused thinking she suddenly heard her name. How could
that be? There was no one around. But she most certainly heard it. It came as a whisper, almost as though it were the
wind itself. The voice was that gentle. “Rosella” she heard it again.
“Who’s there?” Rosella asked trying to sum up the courage to confront her mysterious watcher. Once again, there was
nobody there. Tension began to run a tingling line up the slender princess’s back as the muscles in her limbs
tightened. She left the bucket where it was, and instead clenched her fists on her skirt with anxious fear. It was that
moment that she saw a silhouette hunched near one of the headstones. Rosella took cautious steps toward the
mysterious stranger. “H-hello? I’m, Rosella. Rosella of Daventry,” announced the nervous princess through a dry
throat. Her hopes to grab the stranger’s attention before startling him were dashed, as he seemed not to respond to
her timid girlish voice. Even in the moonlight he was hard to make out because he was stooped beneath the shadow of
one of the larger headstones.
“Hello?” Rosella tried again, this time, reaching a slender white hand into the shadow toward the stranger’s shoulder.
Before her trembling fingers could reach their mark, the stranger turned his head and looked Rosella straight in the
eyes. She shrieked from the bottom of her young heart with a terror she had never known. His eyes were a solid
glowing white, and his skin a sagging dull gray. He reached for the princess’s soft tender hand but she reeled back in
horror. Rosella turned to run full force from the monster and the Tamir cemetery itself, but upon turning around, she
was faced with an even greater horror. Similar gray hands were splitting the earth apart and lurching forth from the
ground all around the cemetery. One after another pairs of glowing white eyes haunted the darkness. They crawled
from the ground and peeked around the headstones, shambling toward the paralyzed princess. They desired her
young white flesh, her living flesh.
A horrified Rosella turned again and ran for her life. In her panicked forgetfulness she ran right into the one behind her,
effectively hugging the zombie. Her saucer blue eyes were all she could muster, as she could not even scream. The
decayed arms wrapped around her slender form and held her for a moment as her body went instantly cold. Rosella
opened her mouth to scream but she was already doomed. Her beautiful soft white skin wrinkled into a sour pale gray,
while her lush blonde hair dried out to a straw-like state fading to a deep charcoal. Her beautiful velvet vermilion gown
aged with fade and frays. The lovely sheer white nylons that encased her slender legs turned a putrid brown and
opened up with holes like a flame held near paper. The zombie then released Rosella’s rotten body as it dropped to the
ground. The princess’s fate however was not death. While she lived 17 years as a beautiful girl, she was doomed to
wander forever as the undead. Her collapsed body reanimated with the same glowing white eyes of the other zombies in
the graveyard. Her adventures had exhausted her to the point where had she felt dead on her feet, but THIS was
ridiculous!!! “Wander” over to the dry skin and hair products section of Tamir, Rosella, you need it!
-THE END
Try Again?
