“Eehh! Ehh….Eh.”
You moan, hearing the shuffling of undead feet. You take in a deep breath- not for the pleasure of it; you’re hungry, and you want to feed.
You’re always hungry now.
“Eeh. Eehhh…”
To you, you’re saying, “Wait! Waaiiit!” But you don’t know that word or what it means. As far as you’re concerned, the sound “Eehh,” sums up your existence. The cumbersome stuff growing on the ground is“eh,” the fluffy shapes up above your head are “eh,” and you, are all called, “Eh.”
Yep, that’s you; you’re Eh. If you knew the word “name” that’s what you’d say it was.
But what you don’t know is that your name was Mary Ralph, and you were a nice lady from a small town who couldn’t keep a hobby. You were quite plain in appearance- or so you thought, although the young man down the street from your small yellow house wouldn’t agree with that opinion.
Now, you’re “Eh.” You have long, knobbly fingers with cruel, broken nails that are far too long. Your hair, which you used to comb up into a bun each day, now splays all about you in a blond afro- However, there is so much grime that it doesn’t look blond anymore.
Your face is peeling and flakey, vacant eyes manifesting your obsession with light, sound, smells and feeding.
You don’t have feeling anymore, aside from a voracious hunger and an excruciating passion for more.
And what do you want? You want that, hanging in the sky; it’s round, bright, and if you had any sense of feeling, when you sit within its reach, you’d feel warmth. You used to call it the sun.
Your mouth, forever ajar, clatters open and shut, open and shut, black teeth cracked. You’re oblivious to the pain that used to inflict- you had sensitive teeth, and loved your special toothpaste.
You especially loved taking your Sensodyne sensitive teeth travel toothpaste in your navy blue purse onto planes. You loved to visit your parents in Florida, where you grew up, for the holiday season.
That’s why you’re stuck here, in the sticky humidity. It was Christmas when you died and then didn’t go to rest. You don’t know that you’re dead- you don’t recall humanity or happiness, or even tears or mourning.
But you are well-acquainted with hunger. It’s all you know and will know from now, until you go to rest.