Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Six)

Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Six)

This is the sixth chapter to a novella called The Zombie Ritual_A Second Coming by r(E)volutionized founder/contributor John Corry. Book is available in the r(E)volutionized store.



Revelations, Realizations, and Revolutions


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Three days had gone by since Chuck’s last diary entry. The door to the basement was heavily bombarded; he didn’t want anything ‘unnatural’ getting through it. There were cabinets thrown in front of it, and loads of furniture scattered all about.

It was midday, and Chuck was sitting around, watching TV (in his underwa-aear ;), like he always was (:/), with the music on in the background turned low.

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 “Lazy, entitled goddamned moochers, they all are–”

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There was a potentially discriminated against reporter on the TV. Somehow, Rush Limbaugh was the only radio content producer still alive #Conspiracy? , and Chuck had no choice but to listen to him at least every couple days out of sheer boredom.

Lately, it’d turned into more like several times a day (or: hour).


“Look at that motherfucker,” Chuck went on. “He’s the reason all this happened: all his interbreeding, all of his rape-culture permeating our perfect-culture, begetting all that reverse racism, which is exactly what put me into this situation–”

Well, we did kidnap his ancestors from their homeland–

“No, our ancestors did, and theirs helped–”

 And forced them into slavery when they arrived here–

“Again, ancestors–”

You think they see it that way? When, in 2014, almost 62% of children under 18 living in poverty in the U.S. were black or Hispanic vs. just 13% of whites, and, in that same year, 26% of the African American population in was living in poverty vs. just 10% of non-Hispanic whites[1]

“Who the fuck gives a fuckin’ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck? I don’t even fuckin’ know what you FUCKING are! You’re just some fucking voice in my head–”

So doesn’t that tell you something?

“So what if you’re not just a voice in my head? What if you’re real?”

What makes me not real?–

“Look at these motherfuckers, they shoulda stayed in their own tribe,” Chuck ignored. “Human civilization and globalization have done nothing for us! I mean look at where we are now, when the Dead walk amongst us like it’s normal–”

Is that not so different than before?–

“Forget about all the technology and advances in medicine and art–”

We’d never have had Death Metal if it weren’t for civilization–

“I don’t listen to Death Metal anymore…”


“It’s not as sad as what happened to Helen, what happened to my FAMILY! Someone must be to blame, otherwise, how do I know it even happened? How can anyone know that anything bad or good ever happens if there isn’t something at fault[2]? This isn’t bad thinking, or resentfulness! It’s normal! And that’s all it is!!!–

“The Dead would never have let this happened. If someone were to disagree with them, they’d be killed! Plain and simple. It wouldn’t have mattered because all the Dead are the same. The Dead are dead, and that’s all there is to it. That’s the real absolute. The only absolute: who we are. The Absolute absolute Absolute Absolute or whatever the FUCK the FUCKING hashtag was, and nothing could ever change that. Nothing could ever change my relative viewpoint of it either, because there’s only one way the living can look at Death: with Fear. With Fear, and the Absolute knowledge that it’s coming, and that the quicker it comes, the easier it’ll be. There’s no point in living, or in falling in #Love , how could there be?! It’s all going to fucking #End anyway, and after that! /> then what?!?!?! The thing about love is that you can never put your finger on it–can never understand it–which means that Absolute/Relative love shit, or the #AbsoluteRealityV.Abso-luteRelativity or whatever, is all fucking bullcrap!! Because to merely recognize it in time destroys it[3]! How can love exist when humans can’t understand it as even just a Simple Form of ‘Being’? I mean it’s like the #FuckingSimplest Form #SoSimple! *So-Simple!!!!!!! !!! So simple that it barely even exists at all, it’s so assumed!! And even if we did get it, how could there be love in Death?? Or: in the Dead which we must inevitably become, eventually, anyway? What Absolute-focused Relativity, love–or potential for any Focused absolute in anything–could there possibly be without suffering?[4]–”

Chuck caught a glimpse out of one of the windows. As he watched the car drift along for a moment, it stopped about fifty feet away from his suite.

Chuck’s dad stepped out of the vehicle.


Chuck stood up–

No ef’n way–

Chuck raced to the door he’d usually (always) gone out of when he’d decided to venture out beyond the suite: the door leading out to where the BNB lobby used to be, but, as he’d been in something of a horribly depressed #MadLover [5] phase over the course of the previous three days, he’d boarded the thing up almost as much as he had the door to the basement (ok, well, maybe not that much, but it was still pretty bad)–

The shit wouldn’t budge!–

So he JUMPED headfirst through the window. It shattered with a loud THUMP as Chuck’s Body Hit the Floor #ShoutOutTo-DrowningPool [6], marking it severely cut and bruised. His dad stared at him like at a ghost, as Chuck darted in his direction, his arms flailing widely above his head–

“Dad! Dad! Over here!!!”

Richard backed up toward the car. Chuck knew he could see him; he’d been looking at him ever since he broke through the window!–

Mr. Zelmer pulled out his cellphone, called someone on it, lifted the phone to his ear, and, with his other hand, pulled out a pistol, aimed it straight in between Chuck’s eyes–

Now only a few feet away, Chuck came to a halt.


Chuck’s dad didn’t respond, but he didn’t put the gun down either–

And then Chuck surveyed the surrounding area: dozens upon dozens of living Dead scattered about, but none were in any way threatening to the living. In fact, many were lounging and relaxing! Though some (many) were carrying limbs or severed heads toward the basement’s laborer’s entrance, or were feasting on a large pile of guts and intestines like a family at a nice midday picnic /> some were even laughing and joking with each other, HOW INCONSIDERATE!!![7] It was all very gross, but they were far more relaxed than one would expect, elegant even…

Chuck twitched, and his dad tightened his grip on his gun, screamed: “Don’t you come any closer!!!”


 “Kam…” Zelmer Sr. said into the phone. “Yes… Yeah, they’re here.” Chuck could hear someone screaming on the other end: ‘You need to get out of there!!!’

“…And I’m holding one at gunpoint right now–”


Chuck ran back to the suite. Behind him, the ground where he was previously standing–and where his dad was then caught in a switch–turned into a black mush and sunk slightly down. As the millions upon millions #AnInfiniteAmount*TheMostInfinite*The-MostInfinite of #BugsOfTheDead came up from beneath it, they quickly overtook The Man on the Phone, the guy who was always so sure, the man who never even had a chance (!) to think–

Or scream–


Chuck casually walked back and through the broken window once he’d gotten there. ‘How have I not looked in a mirror this entire time?’ he asked himself as he realized what he’d just thought there (that he’d not looked in a mirror since the outbreak). He was surprisingly tranquil (o.O). He felt his face with his hands as he lifted himself above the ledge where the glass window used to be, but could feel nothing aside from a few scratches he figured he’d endured when he broke through the window the first time–

He reached the bathroom–

He looked in the mirror…

Nothing. Outside of the bathroom, although it obviously wasn’t in any of the country playlists on the thing (obviously), the quiet opening part to Neurosis’ “Locust Star” began playing on the speakers–

There was nothing strange about his face, no rotting skin patches, no sunken eyeballs or dark circles under them /> even the scratches he’d literally just felt were already mostly disappeared! He watched as the cuts turned into scars turned into light skin variations turned into nothing before his very eyes. He rubbed his hand over them again, and again, and again /> nothing–

He leaned in closer…

His eyes were black, no ‘pupil’, nor any color. When he could, during the outbreak, he’d catch a glimpse of what he could of a zombie’s eye: they at least had some white circling around the pupil, albeit spotty with occasional blemishes of dark green. For most of them, there was more of this: their pupils were very dilated, but there was still always a noticeable amount of white-meets-green in the surrounding circle /> about sixty-forty (%), on average. ‘In Paul, and in Rufus just before he passed, the pupil had almost completely taken over the eye,’ Chuck thought to himself as he was observing this same phenomena happening to his own eyes, but with no green. ‘Thiers were the closest I’d seen to an Absolute takeover, aside from Jim’s eyes, which were completely white. Mine are completely black…’

He pulled the lower part of his eyelid down with his finger–

Creeping out the oily skin were tiny green worms, squirming like animals in a fire, covering up the tiniest bit of white still barely visible on the outskirts of Chuck’s eyeball, trying to attach themselves like #ChariotStatic to that small ball of a galaxy we need in order to see things…

Most of them were already there–

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Chuck raced over to the door leading to the basement /> well, not ‘raced’; actually, it was more like a calm, confident stroll (XD). His strength was much more pronounced than he’d realized it was earlier #KnowYourStrength,Namekian [8], and he could move things like heavy cabinets and old five-hundred pound TVs within milliseconds; things he thought took him all of his manly strength and burliness to move previously, when he first inhabited this suite the day after the outbreak–

Now, they all moved like water.


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He went through the basement door, down the stairs, and into said basement. Aside from the layout, the basement was nothing like before: all the blood on the walls was gone, the smell /> nonexistent. There were no zombies or corpses or limbs or severed heads; it actually just looked like a normal fucking basement–

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He sauntered through nonchalantly, acting like he’d find the black hole in the back, but knowing, somehow, that he wouldn’t. Instead, what he found when he got to where he thought the black hole would be was a small opening to a set of narrow, steep, and very shitty-quality-looking stairs leading down…

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The opening was tiny; it was barely the size of a small school-desk–

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As he stepped into the small entrance *TheSmallest-*Like,TheSmallestFuckingEntranceEver , he could have sworn he heard a voice calling to him from the distance *Like,TheLon-gestDistance*Like,TheLongestFuckingDistance,Like,Fucking,Like,FuckingEV-ER=OO , before he once again just kind of ‘put it out of his mind’, and forgot about it…

“Chuck… Chuck…”

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“Fountains of Rome (I-IV)”–Ottorino Respighi–1917

“Pines of Rome (I-IV)”–Ottorino Respighi–1924

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 “Chuck… Chuck…”

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“Zigeunerlieder Op.103: 7. Kommt Dir Manchmal in Den Sinn”–Johannes Brahms–1888

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[1] Poverty in the United States.” National Poverty Center. University of Michigan. 21 Mar 2017. 2017. Web. 22 May 2017. http://www.npc.umich.edu/poverty/

[2] This could be representative of another kind of ‘regression’, though one much more common, and far more singular than ‘over-thinking’ or ‘over-feeling’: blame/fault/resentment

[3] Quantum Mechanics

[4] Is this to say that Suffering is a kind of its own simple Complex Form? Like love could be a complex Simple? Love and Suffering #TrueRelativeOpposites? #TrueRelativeComplexOpposites??? ...

[5] Plato, Phaedrus, 250d–252b, ‘Plight of the Mad Lover’, title mine

[6] “Bodies”, Sinner, Drowning Pool, The Bicycle Music Company, 2001

[7] SO INCONSIDERATE!!! (and so much worse than priests raping little boys in the name of God! =PP)…

[8] A Namekian is another type of alien from the popular Japanese manga/anime Dragonball Z. They come from the planet Namek, have special regenerative powers, and their skin color is a dark green. They are total badasses, in every way, and, specifically speaking in regards to the arc of the show at hand (DragonBall Z), have a direct correlation to the human race recognizing its power of transcendence (for the nerds: Goku never would have become who he became without all those years of battling Piccolo, right???)

[9] Like, UUU looks like waves? Get it?

Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Seven (END))

Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Seven (END))

Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Five)

Zombie_Ritual__Second_Coming (Chapter Five)