“I'm dead?” I muttered, hypnotized by the grim reality laid bare before me, as the faint city lights from a distance felt much brighter, and disorienting than before.

“That's what the stone says,” the mysterious man moaned. “Takes some getting used to mon chère,” he added, twirling his bejeweled staff which housed a tiny inlaid skull at the far end, its eyes glowing ominously as he hopped off the headstone. “Lucky for you, your beauty hasn't faded in these two weeks.”

“Two weeks!?” I blurted out, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets. “I've been dead for that long?” I turned my gaze to the disheveled pile of dirt that I'd just surfaced from, watching the grubs wriggling in an aimless malaise.

“Resurrection ain't no joke, chère. It takes time...materials...and a skilled shaman...,” the mysterious man sold somberly. “And one with dastardly good looks,” he laughed. “Yours truly,” the man took a bow in mock honor, and held his staff out for me to grab a hold and rise. “Denaux LaForge,” he continued, “Denny to my friends.”

“Denny...” I repeated his name, lost in thought.

“I said, Denny to my friends,” he piped up, with a splintering glare.

I shuddered, backpedaling. “I...I'm sor--”

“Ha-HA!” Denaux howled riotously, a wealth of costume jewelry jingling jovially throughout his slender frame. “All in jest mon chère.”

“Well,” I started up, stringing dirt and grime out of my long brown hair, dusting myself off, and inspecting my tattered black dress, “thank you for helping me...I think?”

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“The pleasure was all mine,” Denaux assured. “Besides, I didn't just bring you back for you and you alone. There's work to be done.”

“But..” my eyes sank to the ground, tracing along til I found the words on the gravestone before me. “I have a life to get back to.”

“Chère, you don't even remember your old life...just yet.”

“Oh...” I soured, reminding myself that he was right. “I have life again though.”

“You sure do...just not how you perceive. You are one of the undead now,” Denaux waved his fingers with spooky affect, “or so to speak.”

“Undead?” I coughed up, my hands naturally feeling around my formerly bruised neck. “Like a zombie??”

“Zoo-mbie! Zoo-mbie! EEE! EEE!” Denaux danced in jubilee, his rollicking jewelry now taking on an the form of an annoying collection of wind chimes packed densely on a tiny front lawn.

I could feel my blood pressure rising, if I still had any blood, that is. “Ugh,” I groaned, “I hate that song...at least I remember that.”

“You're gonna have to learn to embrace it,” Denaux smiled, dancing ever closer to me, shaking his hips and clomping around like a small child on holiday.

“Good luck, you'll never get me to like that one,” I crossed my arms, looking around us and admiring the quiet surroundings looking upon the small graveyard.

“Not the song,” Denaux imparted, as he quit dancing and offered his soft hand in mine. It felt so warm. What did mine feel like then? “The lifestyle,” Denaux continued, “Or should I say, the dead style!” He erupted at his own poorly timed joke, crossing the staff onto his midsection with one hand to keep himself from toppling over.

“I can't die then?”The thought crept into my thoughts with positive notion.

“I wouldn't go that far. There are ways to die...again. And that's for good. I can tell you, it ain't pretty.”

A startling realization just came back to the forefront of my mind. “Denaux...how exactly did I die?”

“Better question is...” Denaux's demeanor turned grave. “Who took your life?”