Her first life was short, but full of thrills... mostly the thrill of immediate death. Less than an hour, a new personal record for shortest lifespan. Turns out, all those hours spent indoors, binging TV and avoiding sunlight, hadn't exactly prepared her for the zombie apocalypse. Who knew survival skills weren't included in the "trust fund baby" starter pack? She didn't exactly need to work, thanks to her parents leaving her a mountain of cash. Enough to live comfortably, as long as she didn't develop a sudden passion for competitive yacht racing or gambling away her fortune. A peaceful life, that was the plan.
Her parents had died in a car accident when she was twenty. Five years ago. She'd been rattling around their ridiculously large house ever since, perfectly content with her own company. The only reason she was even at the cinema was because she'd won a movie ticket online. Figured, why not? The trailer looked decent. But who would have guessed the end of the world was on the cinematic menu? Talk about bad timing.
Time to analyze the disaster that was her first attempt at undead survival. Okay, so, first life: clueless zombie edition. She hadn't even realized she was a zombie. Just woke up feeling…off. Stiff, blurry vision, super-sensitive nose and ears. Imagine waking up with a permanent head cold and a body made of concrete. When she opened her eyes, everything was fuzzy. Weird noises, screaming outside. Chaos in the cinema, people shuffling around like they'd forgotten how to walk. She'd assumed there was a fire, because that seemed like the most logical explanation for the sudden outbreak of weirdness. So, naturally, she tried to escape. Joined the shuffling masses heading for the exits, feeling like she was wading through molasses. Turns out, everyone was moving at the same glacial pace. Eventually, she managed to stumble outside. Her eyesight was still wonky, but after a few aggressive blinks, things started to clear up. And that's when the screaming started.
Because the "people" around her weren't people. They were zombies. Actual, honest-to-goodness, brain-hungry zombies. She was petrified. It took her brain a solid minute to process the information, and when it finally clicked, she let out a scream that probably shattered glass for miles around. Except her voice sounded all wrong. Raspy, guttural, definitely not the dulcet tones she was used to. But honestly, who cared about vocal quality at a time like this?
She tried to run. Emphasis on tried. In her head, she was Usain Bolt. In reality, she was a slightly faster-than-average turtle. The good news was, the other zombies were even slower. So, she kept shuffling, determined to outpace the undead horde. She spotted the escalator, still miraculously working, and practically threw herself onto it. The zombies, bless their slow-moving hearts, didn't follow. She kept running, finally bursting out of the mall onto the first floor. And there, like a beacon of hope in the apocalyptic gloom, was a group of living people running towards the entrance.
Cue the excitement! She ran towards them, waving frantically. No shouting, gotta be stealthy. She finally managed to catch the eye of one of them. A girl. She tried to smile, to look non-threatening, to somehow convey "Help me, I'm not a threat, I'm just a confused zombie!" But before she could utter a single coherent word, the girl screamed like a banshee and hurled her designer handbag directly into her face.
Talk about a rude awakening.
At first, she was just shocked. Then, irritation kicked in. "Why did you do that?!" she yelled, because apparently zombie etiquette still required basic politeness. They ran away, naturally. So, she chased after them. Looked back, saw the zombies were now chasing them. Karma's a bitch, huh? She tried to run faster, saw the group of people looking at her with pure, unadulterated terror in their eyes. Just as she was about to grab the arm of the girl who'd assaulted her with her purse, a guy in the group threw his bag at her face. Again. She almost fell.
Furious didn't even begin to describe it. Why were these people so obsessed with throwing bags at her face? If they didn't want to help, fine. Just say so! But the bag-throwing, the screaming, the acting like she was some kind of monster… it was just plain rude. So, she ran after them. She'd show them what happened when you messed with a girl and her designer handbag (or lack thereof). She chased them out of the mall, onto the street. They ran left, she ran left. She was like chewing gum stuck to their designer shoes. She'd annoy them to death if it was the last thing she did. And then, the girl tripped.
This was her chance! Sweet, sweet revenge. She reached out, ready to finally grab her tormentor, when suddenly, her world went black.
Turns out, one of the guys in the group had decided to take matters into his own hands. And by "matters," I mean a conveniently located stick. He smashed her head with it. Repeatedly. She was shocked at the sheer brutality of it all. How could they attack an innocent girl like that? I mean, okay, maybe chasing them wasn't the smartest move, but they started it! Was it wrong to retaliate? And the stick! Seriously, overkill.
That's how her first life ended. Unceremoniously bashed to death with a stick by a group of terrified, bag-wielding strangers.
So, when she woke up again in her second life, she was still reeling from the stick-related trauma. And then, it hit her. The horrifying, undeniable truth. She'd been killed because… she was a zombie!
Suddenly, everything made sense. The blurry vision, the weird noises, the craving for… well, she didn't know what zombies craved yet, but she was pretty sure it wasn't kale smoothies.
After realizing the truth, she finally understood why they reacted that way.
Okay, new plan. Second life: avoid people with sticks. And maybe work on her people skills. Or, you know, zombie skills. Whatever those were.