He was the wind of winter, the harbinger of death, a ring of black and white forever interlocked in perpetual motion.
A murder of crows flew, their eyes trained on a wolf and a pup. They fought, the wolf protecting its companion. Then one of the crows screeched, a lifeless pup lying on the ground.
Then a song, interwoven in a silver sword. Its metal was chipped away by countless battles of a true warrior. Its handle was covered with rainbow-colored strands of silk that danced lazily through a breeze.
He saw a flowering orchid clinging to an oak amidst a burning forest, its canopy acting as a shield against the heat of fire. Smoke filled the surroundings, accompanied by a cacophony of blood-curdling screams.
Until finally, he saw a book, held atop a pedestal. Its words were blurred even when he tried to look closely. His hands reached out to open it, whispers growing louder as his fingers neared its leather cover.
Then he opened his eyes.
***
Callum felt like he’d just gone through a fever dream. He couldn’t even remember half of it. Everything moved so fast that most of what he’d seen didn’t make sense.
Yet, he couldn’t care less. After all, he’d never felt so refreshed after all these years. He can’t even remember what sleeping felt like. His photographic memory didn’t allow him to replicate the sense of touch.
He remained lying there for a few more minutes, watching the clouds lazily go by as he enjoyed breathing in the stale air around him. He was still in the middle of a barren wasteland and was a bit sorry that all the animals became fuel for his resurrection.
“But sacrifices must be made,” Callum rasped, his throat too dry to speak.
‘Looks like I found what I need to do for the rest of the day’
With one last deep breath, Callum decided he’d spend the rest of the day looking for a water source. He rolled to the side, ready to start his day in earnest, only to be stabbed by something on the ground.
The pain surprised him, his head swiveled to see what had caused it. However, what he saw only sent heat crawling up his head.
A silver ring glinted underneath a cover of dry grass, a diamond lodged at its center. The same ring that he was gonna use for his proposal to Catherine.
A multitude of emotions warred in his heart. He felt conflicted after seeing the symbol of Callum’s commitment to marriage. He had worked tirelessly for that ring, and the only thing he got out of it was a stab in the back. Remembering the cause of his death finally got an emotion from him, and it was anger.
In a moment, Callum swiped it off the ground, stood up, raised his arms, and threw it with a shout. He watched it sail through the air, his memories with the accomplice of his murderer going with it.
With a sigh through his nose to calm his mind, Callum turned back to head towards the woods. He could still see some trees in the distance, the tree line not far from a 15-minute walk. But when he was about to take his first step, he felt something hit his head.
“Ow!”
Callum instinctually rubbed his noggin, looking down to see what had hit him, only to find the same ring he’d thrown away.
In a rage, Callum threw the ring again, watching it fly through the air until he could only see a glint of it. Looks like all that training of watching a bullet has finally paid off, his eyes trained on it until it landed on the ground. With a nod to himself, Callum turned back again only to get hit by the same silver ring.
Callum threw the ring over and over again for the next five minutes. Anger was the only thing in his mind, determined to get rid of the last vestiges of his former lover with him. Yet no matter how hard he threw it, the ring kept coming back. And with each throw, his fury died down.
Callum looked at the ring with furrowed brows, examining it to see if it would move under his gaze.
“Are you alive?” Callum asked.
Like most inanimate objects he’d come across the ring didn’t answer.
With a long sigh, coupled with a slew of mumbled curses to his murderers, Callum pocketed the ring, only to remember he was butt naked.
“That’s another chore added to the list. Find clothes.”
With nowhere to store the ring, Callum, with as much willpower as he could muster, slid the ring onto his pinky finger. He did try to put it on his middle finger just to show his disrespect towards his killers, however, it’s much too small to fit his large digits.
“No use thinking about the past right now.”
His mind still asked questions on how it kept coming back to him, and if it were connected to his death somehow, but that would have to wait after he got his bearings. He took one last look at his ring-adorned hand and walked towards the forest.
On his way, Callum studied the changes his body went through. He could see a lot has changed from his resurrection. His skin was unusually white, and his veins were black. He could see that his hair also saw some change. What once were brown strands of hair had turned completely white. It’s like he’d just aged fifty years since the day he was alive, yet he still kept the same physique as before.
“Well, I am a century old now. I’m what? 131 years old?” Callum guessed.
He’d been taking count of each regeneration, and he was certain that this was his 98th year being in this world… if it was a different world.
There was still a chance this was Earth and all the mystical beings he’d seen had been invisible to everyone else. Only when he comes across civilization would he know if he’s still on the same blue planet he came from.
Another thing that he noticed was his heartbeat—it felt like a slow thump in his chest, barely registering six beats in a minute. It was alarming, but it only reassured him that he was alive.
Now nearing the treeline, Callum quickened his pace. His mind and body longed to finally experience the world he’d only seen through his senses. His excitement surged like the wind that passed him by, the world seemingly pushing him to explore the unknown right in front of him. Then, a sharp pain ran through his head.
Suddenly, it felt like his brain was being fried. He could sense everything around him so vividly just like when he was a corpse. The loud chirping of birds echoed in the distance, and even with his eyes closed, he could see every minuscule detail of the trees just ahead.
He had been so preoccupied with examining his body that he forgot about his new senses. The barren wasteland had masked this ability, only revealing itself when he neared anything filled with life. However, unlike before, he was alive.
Turning around, Callum ran back. The sensory overload was too much for his reawakened mind to handle. Nausea washed over him at the sudden rush of information flooding his head.
During his time as a corpse, his senses were muted by decomposition. Everything had felt monochromatic, and he could only hear what he focused on. Now, though, he was alive. It was like watching through multiple lenses at once, his vision divided between his eyes and his former monochromatic perception.
It took a few deep breaths for Callum to regain his composure, taking multiple gulps of air just to slow his racing heart. With a clearer mind, he started exploring his newfound ability.
Closing his eyes, Callum focused on his surroundings, which he immediately regretted after seeing how far he could sense. He started dry heaving from the images crossing his brain, his thoughts again jumbled.
“Let’s take it slowly next time, shall we?” Callum gasps.
This time, Callum sat down. His knees propped his arms up as he slowly concentrated on his new senses.
Once again, Callum was bombarded with images, but this time he focused solely on his hearing. It felt painful as if his brain was overheating and turning to mush. However, it was nothing like the 98 years of torture he’d endured.
His mind was abuzz. Every rustle the trees made was heard. He could hear the same jackalopes he’d watched during his time as a corpse hopping on the ground through his senses. The call of every insect, the rush of wind moving through leaves, and the sound of flowing water in a creek. He could hear everything around him from a mile away.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
His thoughts slipped from his grasp. The tremendous amount of information going through his mind was overwhelming, threatening to pop his head like a balloon.
If he were to describe it, his senses were like a sphere. He could watch and hear everything around him as long as it was within that sphere. The farther his senses go, the more blurred it becomes, until it dissipates into nothingness. However, with determination, Callum held his ability with a tight grip, willing it to contract.
At first, it refused to budge, his spherical perception resisting his efforts. It’s like trying to squeeze a handful of oobleck. The more force he tries to exert, the harder it becomes, with less only slipping through his grasp. It was frustrating. However, his will was not to be ignored. He’d gone through years of imagination training, creating objects through the use of his will alone. If he can’t even handle this, then what was the use of his decades' worth of mental exercises?
So, with a stomp of willpower, Callum commanded his senses to retract. Just like before, it refused to budge. However, with a flood of his determination, the mile-sized sphere of perception began to shrink. What was once five thousand feet became four thousand, then three, two, until he could only sense up to five feet around him.
With a smile, Callum opened his eyes. The sun had reached its zenith, which meant he’d been in that state for hours. He could still sense everything within five feet of him, but the information was much more manageable.
Although he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for the past dozen hours, Callum didn’t feel hungry or thirsty. He could only guess that his resurrection gave him some energy to siphon off of to stave off his bodily needs. Even so, it was weird not to feel hungry even after all he’s been through.
Until a stray thought made its way into his mind.
“There’s no way, right?” Callum asked, chuckling at the mere idea of it.
However, the color of his skin begged to differ. Callum, now stuck thinking about the possibility of his idea coming true, searched for a piece of sharp rock. His mind rushed through his memory of examining his new body. The evidence was there, yet his mind refused to believe it.
Now armed with a rock sharp enough to cut him, Callum nicked his finger, surprising himself at how much strength he needed to produce just to cut it. Nevertheless, he managed to puncture his skin, deep enough to draw blood. At least, what he thought would be blood.
What he saw was black ooze slowly coming out of his finger. Its consistency was too thick to be blood. Then, it dropped from his finger and landed on some dry grass. It hissed, black smoke rising from the blood that had come in contact with it.
Callum stared wide-eyed as he watched his blood eat through the dead grass below him. His eyes moved back and forth between his finger and where his blood had landed. Then, with an impulsive thought, Callum raised his still-punctured finger and licked it.
It tasted like rotten eggs left on a windowsill under the summer sun. In short, it tasted vile. Callum immediately started gagging, smearing his tongue on his other hand to get the taste out. Despite that, he noticed his tongue hadn’t melted from coming into contact with it.
“There’s no way, right?” Callum loudly asked, his mind anxious at the possibility.
Callum remembered hearing a creek in the forest. He ran towards it with as much speed his feet could muster, which surprisingly is a lot. He blitzed through the trees, uncaring if his head thunked on a stray branch, his mind only focused on one thing.
When he saw the creek, Callum immediately leaned over it to see his reflection in its waters. And there, he saw it.
Two black orbs of inky blackness stared back at him, his eyes replaced by the abyss. The whites of his eyes were completely gone, and if anyone were to see this, they would know what he was.
“THERE’S NO WAY!” Callum screamed.
Callum, through all his years of being dead, didn’t think of himself becoming an undead. He knows the implications of what could happen if anyone were to see him.
If he’s still on Earth, then he’d be subjected to experiments by the government, prying out secrets out of his body. He can’t even ignore the possibility of being used as some super soldier sent to multiple wars across the globe. He may have shot a gun, but he wasn’t a fighter!
On the other hand, if he were in another world, he’d be hunted down by anyone who comes across him. He’d be the boogeyman told in children's stories, acting as a warning for any naughty kids in some faraway village.
Callum can’t live with that, he cherished children! He even had a dream of starting a family of his own! Although that may not come for the foreseeable future, he still wanted to have kids with someone he loved!
“Wait, don’t tell me…” Callum muttered.
He slowly stood up, finding a secluded spot where no man or animal could see him. Ten minutes later, Callum walked out dejectedly, a huge frown now plastered on his face.
“I can’t even get it up,” Callum slurred.
His most important ability turned to ash and spread through the wind. His dream was shattering before his eyes with each minute he spent trying to get stiff, his eyes tearing up as reality started to set in.
Callum is an undead. Most of his human abilities were gone. He couldn’t feel hungry or thirsty, he couldn’t have children, and his heart was abnormally slow.
With the sudden realization, Callum could do nothing but chuckle, which then turned into laughter. He found it hilarious that after he finally rose from the dead, life still found a way to fuck him over. After all the years he spent in isolation, he thought he could finally live a somewhat normal life. He craved social contact, real ones that weren’t mental clones of himself. Yet now, he can’t even have that.
So yes, for him, it was hilarious. His fit of delirium went on for minutes, his emotions too volatile to form any thought in his head. When he finally got his bearings, Callum sat beside the creek, his feet submerged in its waters. What was supposed to be a cold flow of liquid felt like a warm bath.
He looked at himself in the water’s reflection, staring at his face. His features were still there. His squared jaw covered with some stubble was a familiar sight, his distinct nose and cut hair offering comfort. Anyone who had known him would easily recognize Callum. However, the most striking feature was the eyes. For his skin and hair, he could chalk it up as him having albinism. However, his eyes were a different matter.
As his mind raced with multiple possibilities of what he would say to his colleagues if he ever met them, or what he would do when he saw another person, the water he had been staring at rippled.
Droplets of moisture fell from his face. Feeling it with a hand, he noticed that he had been crying over his reflection. He tried to wipe it away, yet tears kept flowing out of his abyssal eyes. Then the whole dam broke.
Emotions that he had been keeping away for the past few minutes came back like a tsunami. He felt his heart give way to the rush of emotions. He felt angry, frustrated, and sad. Yet, one emotion surfaced above them all.
Callum, once again, after all his years being dead, felt lonely. It was like back then all over again. He still remembered the call from his father’s friend. It was his last year in university, and the news of his father’s disappearance threatened to push him over the edge of oblivion.
The feeling of complete loss was the same as now, if not worse. Not only didn’t he find any trace of his father, he also got betrayed by his girlfriend of five years. And now that he’s an undead, he can’t enjoy the same privileges he had when he was human.
For the next hour, Callum cried, his arms covering his eyes to staunchly block his tears. He remained on his back, the verdant grass rubbing across his skin. The warm feeling of water was his only solace from his turmoil. However, he can’t stay sad forever.
Wiping the last of his tears, Callum sat up. The sun was creeping closer to the horizon as Callum made his way over the creek. He took one last look at his reflection, then took a handful of water. He leaned closer to his water-filled palms and sipped.
The refreshing taste of the liquid washed away all his worries. His earlier episode of loneliness and loss was momentarily forgotten as Callum enjoyed drinking.
Even though he doesn’t need to eat and drink doesn’t mean that he can’t. Though he had lost most of his bodily functions when he was human, Callum could still enjoy the privilege of being alive.
Now that he thought of it, Callum could still cry. Even though he was essentially a walking corpse, he could still do things normal people do. And with that hope, Callum stood up straight.
Though it was just a theory, Callum still hoped it was true. His thinking was that he wasn’t your typical undead. He still had a heartbeat, he could cry, and he had memories of his life before and while he was dead.
With this line of thinking, Callum’s heart felt lighter. The future looked less bleak as he thought it over more and more. Even if he was an undead now doesn’t mean that he couldn’t turn himself back. If he was in another world filled with magic, the possibility of being human again isn’t out of the question.
Callum smiled at the thought, however, he still had one more test he needed to do before he set out to find a new pair of clothes. Callum walked to the edge of the creek, looking over it to see how deep it was. Satisfied at its depth, Callum took a couple of steps back. Then, with a deep breath, Callum ran towards the creek and jumped.
With a splash, Callum was underwater, the rush of the current the only sound he could hear. Opening his eyes, Callum marveled at the sight before him.
Aquatic vegetation swayed along the currents, small fishes swimming between their roots. Broken branches that have sunk in the past were covered in green algae and red plants. The ripple of water sent rays of sun dancing on the sand-covered bottom of the creek. He could even see some unknown flowers held by a thin tether of roots attached to the streambed covered by green grass.
The view was astonishing, a different world hidden from everyone else. He even briefly forgot what he was doing, until he remembered it.
Callum stayed underwater, counting the seconds that passed. He kept his eyes trained on the world before him, his mind ticking away as time went by. Seconds turned into a minute, then a minute turned to ten. Until he had lost count of how long he was underwater.
This proved it, he didn’t need to breathe. With one last look at the stunning view in front of him, Callum resurfaced and pulled himself out of the creek.
Callum shook himself dry and walked along the stream bank. At first, he saw his state of being undead as a curse. However, now, he thought differently. He took a mental note of the pros and cons of his current situation. He pointed out the benefits of being an undead and its drawbacks.
The advantages of being an undead were the unnecessary need to eat, drink, or breathe. He hedged a guess that he didn’t need to sleep either, which meant he could work more without growing tired or hungry. However, the disadvantages were his inability to reproduce, and that most people would be scared of his appearance.
Thinking more on it now, being an undead doesn’t seem that bad. He could still do most of the things he could when he was human, it’s just that now, he can choose whenever he wants to act as a human. If he could just get something to cover himself up, he wouldn’t be any different from what he was before.
And with those thoughts, his spirit soared high, and Callum quickened his pace. His future seems brighter now, he just needs to find something to cover up his nether regions.