Joel’s Journal – 11/19/2015

My Life with the Undead logo My Life With the Undead – Part 1

Days can be pretty boring sometimes, I choose to use my imagination and make them more exciting


It started this morning while I was writing.

My headphones were in and A Day to Remember was blasting into my ears as my fingers sped across the keys.

As you guys know, my latest novel “What We’ve Become” is flowing really well right now, even with fall behind us and winter on it’s way, the motivation doesn’t seem to be waning. Let’s keep our fingers crossed. Well, you do that, I’ll keep mine writing.

In the middle of a scene a loud thump came from upstairs, so loud I could hear it through my headphones.

I paused my music and listened. It was still early, just after six, and light was just starting to seep through the window above my bed.

When no further sound came I turned my music back on and kept writing. It was nearly 8:30 before something else happened.

I wanted to finish the chapter I was working on before I had to get ready for work, when there was another banging. I couldn’t hear it distinctly enough to tell whether it was the floor directly above me, or perhaps down here in the basement with me.

My heart was starting to beat a little faster now. Generally the older people above me were pretty quiet, the only noise they tend to make are the occasional creak of the floorboards as they walk across the room. It isn’t unusual to hear noises during my morning writing sessions either, I think the seniors above me are probably away before my 5:30 alarm even beeps.

Anyways, the noise, loud enough to hear through my headphones, which are set so high as to drown out the world, I knew it had to be pretty loud.

I clicked back to iTunes and was about to press play when it came again. It wasn’t a thud like the last time, this time it sounded like a plate or perhaps a pan falling onto the floor and rolling around its edge before coming to a stop.

I yanked the headphones from my ears, frustrated. It was 8:30.

I downed the remainder of my coffee and headed for the shower.

Opening the bathroom door afterwards, a cloud of steam following me back out into the apartment. I noticed a chill in the air as I slipped into my jeans that were puddled on the floor from the day before.

My window was open. It was only slightly, and I figured I just hadn’t clicked it shut the night before, I generally like to cool the place down before slipping under the sheets.

I thought nothing more about it and got my things ready for the day. My laptop, camera and notebook all went into my bag and I headed for the door, my thoughts already turning towards the meeting at city hall that would start in ten minutes.

My apartment is in the basement of an old Victorian home. A massive structure of red brick, old wood and large pillars. A long laneway runs along the opposite side of the house from the door, pushing through and out into the crisp morning air I noticed a set of wet footprints on the small set of concrete steps.

I hopped down, headphones once again plugged in my ears and moved around the empty back lot of the house to my car.

That’s when I froze.

I stared confused as the older lady who lives above me made her way across the front lawn.

As I said, the laneway that runs down to the house is about 20 yards from the road, beside it is a large square of grass and a wooden gazebo and shed off to the side. The lady from apartment 4 was standing in the middle of the lawn seeming to stare at the door to the shed. I shot her a couple quick glances as my iPod shuffled over to Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song.

I popped open my back door tossed in my bag and when I shut it, my eyes still on the lady from apartment 4, she turned at the noise.

I waved and offered a polite smile, but she returned neither of them. It was then I noticed that she seemed to be still wearing her night gown, it hung loose off her shoulders and the wind billowed it around her knees. Her feet, mostly hidden in the long grass, were bare.

Wanting nothing to do with any sort of awkward conversation with an old lady in a night gown, I dropped into my car, adjusting my coat as I put my seatbelt on. When I looked up, she was walking toward me.

The day was cool and a wind was blowing leaves across the front yard. I watched as several of them knocked into her bare legs, one even caught in her wiry white hair, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Her face was blank, but other then that she didn’t look any different, except for the fact she was hanging out in the front lawn in her night gown.

I wondered if perhaps she was on any medications and maybe forgot to take them.

I rolled past her as she walked in the direction of my car. She got as far as the black, chainlink fence that runs along the laneway, where she ran into it as if she forgot it was there.

As I past, one of her feet came up as she made a weak attempt to climb it.

It was her footprints I’d seen on the steps, I realized then, and they weren’t soaked with water, but with something red.

To be continued….

Thanks for reading.