Tag Archives: Zombie

Cotard’s syndrome or when I became a zombie:

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Cotard

I slipped into the role quite comfortably. Some people are of the opinion (read the muse) that I am a drama queen, but I am merely capable of playing different roles superbly. Perhaps my imagination is just a tad overly dramatic and visually inclined, but what on earth is wrong with that?
“Hnnnhhhh….help me,” I groaned. I had my arms outstretched in front of me and my feet were dragging on the floor. I allowed my head to slump onto my shoulders and groaned convincingly. The Lexicon Dragon peered around the wall of her cave.
“What kind of language is hnnnhhh? It does not compute and I cannot find it in any of the dictionaries I have consulted.”
“Zzzzooommmbie ssssppeeeaaakkk,” I said, slurring the words.
“Are you quite allright?” she asked solicitously.
“Nooooo,” I answered, “I am decomposing and have the distinct urge to eat your brain, scooping it from your skull with a soup ladle.”
The Lexicon Dragon’s eyes went wide as she scurried back to her library, speed dialling the muse. The lady in question appeared within seconds, her hair covered in a zebra striped shower cap, her body wrapped in a voluminous bright orange towel. The ensemble almost turned me into a real zombie.
“Hhhnnnhhhh, a fatty brain,” I groaned as I lurched towards her. I fashioned my fingers into claws and grinned at her manically.
“Smell my decomposing flesh and quake in your boots, woman,” I added.
“As if,” she snorted. I felt quite disheartened at her blasé attitude towards my superb drama skills.
“Cotard’s Syndrome?” she asked and my bubble burst. She knew way too much, damn the woman. I kept forgetting that she could not be fooled- she was part of me after all.

http://health.howstuffworks.com/mental-health/mental-disorders/what-is-cotards-syndrome.htm

Zombie or Vampire- you choose

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Dear Reader:

I am turning into a nocturnal creature; either a zombie or a vampire as I haven’t been able to sleep for two days and counting. I refuse to believe that I am an insomniac as I already have various labels that define me like annoying yellow post-its admonishing you to do this or remember that. Bipolar, overweight, type two diabetic and don’t forget struggling, poor author.

However, the only evidence I can find of being bitten by a vampy creature, is a miniscule hole on my third toe. I have no idea how I hurt myself, thus the only explanation is a blind octogenarian vampire with a single sharp tooth. Therefore I am now slowly turning, at a snail’s pace, because face it an octogenarian vampire’s poison is not as virile as it once used to be, into a batty creature. Wait, haven’t I always been batty? The answer is a resounding yes- I can even hear the choir saying: “Amen!” They frequently have to scrape me off the walls with a spatula, and besides which, I am sure I have seen my son hanging upside down in a shadowy corner of his room. It must run in the family, unfortunately.

The only other option is that I must be an undercover, non-conformant zombie. I don’t do the rags thing; it just looks untidy and I, as a writer, refuse to make monosyllabic grunts and groans. The question remains- where is my zombie bite? I cannot believe that a true zombie would be satisfied with an eight of a millimetre of my flesh. The only other mark I could find was a vicious looking bee sting. No, I did not calmly remove the stinger with a credit card, I panicked and slapped at it frantically, which of course just released more poison into my bloodstream. Now the mark is an angry, bluish red. Are bees now the familiars of a new zombie race? If so, then I am slowly turning into a dreaded zombie or a bee.

There is neither rhyme nor reason to the sleeplessness. My mind is just way too busy to shut down even though I have sent a memo to Sir Laughalot, the hamster that is patiently running on his yellow wheel in my brain, to please either get down, slow down or else…

I am, however, not entirely sure what the else entails as I have never had to warn him about anything before. Perhaps I should switch off the lights in his room. He would fall asleep and perhaps then, so would I. Wish me luck as I desperately try to sleep…

Your-not-drowsy-writer!