creative projects · Fiction

Dear Melissa

Dear Melissa,

How are you doing? I know that it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and the last time we talked wasn’t on the best of terms. My bad. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. My mistake. I just want to make sure you’re okay. The last few days have been a time for me to reflect what I actually wanted to tell you that night. Now, just hear me out. Please continue reading. I know that this is rather old fashioned but I’m only writing this because I care. Besides, this way, if you don’t feel like reading it all the way through in one sitting you could put it don’t for later. You also don’t have to respond to me but I would really love to hear back from you. The only thing I ask of you is to please not show this to Josh.

So, how do I begin this? Well, I have to say it. Your boyfriend is a zombie. I can already hear you sighing as you shake your head. I get it. It’s too far-fetched. Zombies aren’t real. You may think I’m sick or whatever but just please, hear me out and answer these questions honestly.

When you’re with Josh, do you ever notice how he looks at you? That glazed over expression with his jaw hanging low that you think is strangely cute for some reason. When we were having lunch at Andy’s Bakery last weekend, I noticed it. He looked at you like he was hungry. Like, he actually wanted to eat you. He didn’t even touch the Reuben you bought for him. He stared at you while you were fanning yourself mistaking this for flattery. I was creeped out for the both of us. As you were talking to me about your new job, at various points I saw him sniffing your hair and licking his lips.  This was before I even considered the possibility that he was a zombie.

Then again, there were signs before this. When you first introduced him, I couldn’t help but notice how pasty white he was. He looked sick. You blamed his sickly complexion on his poor diet. His stomach is sensitive, you rationalized to me. I can’t remember a time where I actually saw him eat, do you?

There was also the smell. Girl, I know you love him but you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. True, he doesn’t smell like what you would normally expect a dead person to smell like. Nothing that would immediately bring to mind a rotting corpse. No, his smell reminded me of those dead cats that we dissected in high school anatomy. You know, the ones that were cold and wet to the touch as we peeled off their skin and labeled their muscles. Every time I smelled him, he reminded me of that. That icky, chemical formaldehyde smell that made me want to throw up every time we hung out. People shouldn’t remind me of that. I have no idea how you managed to eat around him.

And have you ever noticed how he doesn’t actually talk? Like seriously. His “I love you’s” sound more like “Ahhh uhv uuu.” He pronounces your name like Maaaeeeeeza. He also walks with a sort of limp and I swear I saw him lose one of his fingers as he was rifling through the bills in his wallet. Everything just seems so unnatural about him.

Now at this point, you’re probably about to put down the letter. Please don’t. I’m only looking out for your best interest. I don’t want this guy to hurt you. He may actually love you since he decided not to eat your brains but you can never be too careful.

But where is the proof, I hear you asking. Why am I so convinced that Josh is a zombie? What possible explanation can I come up with to rationalize my thinking? Well, don’t think badly of me but three days ago, I followed Josh home. After we left Todd’s house, out of morbid curiosity I followed him. He walked out of town to the Old Thompson Cemetery. I thought this strange but didn’t much about it at first. Who knows, he may have been visiting a dead relative. I decided to continue because something in my gut just told me to keep moving.

Well, I followed him and at one of the graves he paused. I noticed from afar that the grave was recently dug out. A huge pile of dirt rested beside it.  I hid behind the grave of a Larry Carson as he looked about him carefully. Then, with a grunt he fell into the empty grave. At first I thought he tripped and moved to help him when I heard loud crunching noises. After I heard something rip, I saw an arm–an actual dismembered arm–thrown to the top as the crunching noises continued. After five more minutes, I saw his cut up hand scoping up huge handfuls of dirt from the pile and throwing it on himself. Needless to say, when the whole process was over I got the hell up out of there and went straight to your house.

That should also explain the fight. I shouldn’t have acted that way. I should’ve taken a bit more time to process what I saw before coming to you about it in a state of panic. Of course you would defend Josh in the face of accusation of him being a member of the undead. I get that. You love him.  I hurt your feelings. But I also think you should seriously consider what I have told you. The next time you kiss him, seriously contemplate that strange aftertaste you described to me. The one that you compared to rotting meat. The only thing you once considered a major turn off.

I hope to hear back from you very soon but I understand if you don’t want to talk to me again. I wish you the best of luck. If Josh truly does make you happy then, I guess, best of luck to you.

Best wishes,


P.S Seriously, you should consider dumping the dude. He may make you happy now but when things get rough, who’s to say he will turn you into his next dinner. At the very least, get him checked out by someone.

P.S I’m always here if you need me.

(Last Edit: 10 January 2016)


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