Simspiration Prompt: Remington Harris
Lillian was gone and the bond she had forced upon him when she made him into a zombie was completely severed. Man Maid didn't know whether he should feel relieved or scared.
Remington! My name is Remington, not Man Maid! he scolded himself. He wrung his hands nervously as he looked around the dark, broken streets of Pleasantview. He needed to run and hide, but he had no idea where he should go. He was utterly terrified.
Death, the Grim Reaper himself, was making his presence heavily known upon the mortal realm as of late, and Remington didn't know what to make of it. As a zombie, Remington was very well aware that he and his ilk were the lowest on the totem pole when it came to dead creatures. Zombies, or the undead, were sneered at by the vampires, the living dead. But the Grim Reapers, The Dead, reign the highest and Grim Reapers usually were quite disdainful of any creature that disrupts the balance and order of all things living and dying; whether said undead state was forced upon them or not.
So Remington could only surmise that Death was on the Mortal Realm looking for him. He knew it was rather self centered and it didn't make sense, but panic had still set in and Remington was going to try and hide. How, he didn't know as he knew that Death would be able to find him no matter what. Where to hide was also another problem.
Shuffling along as rapidly as his legs would let him, he came upon the Pleasantview graveyard. In a snap decision, he decided to hide in there. When he entered, he looked around for an area that might have a lot of weeds, or something else that could hide him properly. He spied a slender tombstone that was more well kept than the other ones.
Tristen Devereaux
That was the only writing etched on the stone, but those two words shot a guilty pain through his chest where his heart used to beat. He sincerely wished that Lillian hadn't forced him to deliver the poison that killed the poor girl. In fact, he wished Lillian would have been satisfied with just killing him instead of using necromancy to reanimate him; it would have been much more peaceful. The things he had witnessed, the things he had been forced to do against his will sent shivers down his spine. And then, there was the entire incident with Zane...
Remington shook his head and forcibly blocked the memory out of his mind. The screams of pain, terror, and still the pleadings of love throughout it all still haunted him. Thankfully, he had managed to forget about everything that followed afterwards.
He finally found a secluded spot by a crumbling mausoleum and he began to dig a hole to bury himself in. He figured that during the day, he could sleep in the gound, and then at night, when the ghosts were wandering the graveyard, he would scrounge around for food. Most people avoided graveyards at night, so he was relatively certain that he wouldn't be bothered. He just hoped that the green ghost of Lillian's brother's first wife wouldn't emerge too often.
When he dug a deep enough hole, he climbed in and began pulling the dirt over him. As he settled in, the echoes of Zane's screams came back to him.
Momma! Please! I'm sorry!
Momma! I love you! Please!
Momma! Please! NO!
Remington curled himself into a ball, allowing the dirt to sift over him. "I'm sorry, Zane. I wish I could have helped," he mumbled. He began to think that maybe it woulnd't be such a bad thing if the Grim Reaper found him. Perhaps then he would be allowed his eternal rest.
Remington! My name is Remington, not Man Maid! he scolded himself. He wrung his hands nervously as he looked around the dark, broken streets of Pleasantview. He needed to run and hide, but he had no idea where he should go. He was utterly terrified.
Death, the Grim Reaper himself, was making his presence heavily known upon the mortal realm as of late, and Remington didn't know what to make of it. As a zombie, Remington was very well aware that he and his ilk were the lowest on the totem pole when it came to dead creatures. Zombies, or the undead, were sneered at by the vampires, the living dead. But the Grim Reapers, The Dead, reign the highest and Grim Reapers usually were quite disdainful of any creature that disrupts the balance and order of all things living and dying; whether said undead state was forced upon them or not.
So Remington could only surmise that Death was on the Mortal Realm looking for him. He knew it was rather self centered and it didn't make sense, but panic had still set in and Remington was going to try and hide. How, he didn't know as he knew that Death would be able to find him no matter what. Where to hide was also another problem.
Shuffling along as rapidly as his legs would let him, he came upon the Pleasantview graveyard. In a snap decision, he decided to hide in there. When he entered, he looked around for an area that might have a lot of weeds, or something else that could hide him properly. He spied a slender tombstone that was more well kept than the other ones.
Tristen Devereaux
That was the only writing etched on the stone, but those two words shot a guilty pain through his chest where his heart used to beat. He sincerely wished that Lillian hadn't forced him to deliver the poison that killed the poor girl. In fact, he wished Lillian would have been satisfied with just killing him instead of using necromancy to reanimate him; it would have been much more peaceful. The things he had witnessed, the things he had been forced to do against his will sent shivers down his spine. And then, there was the entire incident with Zane...
Remington shook his head and forcibly blocked the memory out of his mind. The screams of pain, terror, and still the pleadings of love throughout it all still haunted him. Thankfully, he had managed to forget about everything that followed afterwards.
He finally found a secluded spot by a crumbling mausoleum and he began to dig a hole to bury himself in. He figured that during the day, he could sleep in the gound, and then at night, when the ghosts were wandering the graveyard, he would scrounge around for food. Most people avoided graveyards at night, so he was relatively certain that he wouldn't be bothered. He just hoped that the green ghost of Lillian's brother's first wife wouldn't emerge too often.
When he dug a deep enough hole, he climbed in and began pulling the dirt over him. As he settled in, the echoes of Zane's screams came back to him.
Momma! Please! I'm sorry!
Momma! I love you! Please!
Momma! Please! NO!
Remington curled himself into a ball, allowing the dirt to sift over him. "I'm sorry, Zane. I wish I could have helped," he mumbled. He began to think that maybe it woulnd't be such a bad thing if the Grim Reaper found him. Perhaps then he would be allowed his eternal rest.