What Happened After I Died?

Let me tell you about the day I died. Well, there isn’t much to tell really. I was stupid and young. Driving too fast and texting was more important than looking where I was going. Car accidents happen every day and people die every day.  I simply became part of that statistic.

The day I died isn’t as important as the day I came back. It was your typical Tuesday morning with snow falling from a cloudy sky. After an eternity of floating through a black void of empty space that was my afterlife, a flash of light devoured my eyes and sent a shockwave of torment ripping through my chest. That burst of energy kicked my heart into overdrive which triggered an effect on my brain activity that got me to open my eyes and stared into the buzzing annoyance of a fluorescent light in the ceiling.

Like I said; a typical Tuesday morning.

I woke up in an empty warehouse, strapped to a metal examination table in the middle of a rundown room. That fluorescent light was the only source of electricity in the entire three-story building. No heart monitors, no electrodes attached to my skin. Nothing. It was as if the people who wanted to bring me back, stopped caring if I ever would and took off.

I found clothes in a bag near the table with slip on shoes that were a size too big. I found my way out into the snow, clutching onto the false reality that I was trapped in some sort of heaven or hell. It took a bit for me to realize that the coldness of winter didn’t pierce my skin like it once had. I saw no fog from my breath or goose bumps cascading down my arms and spine. Something about my return to life erased my sense of hot and cold and that was more than fine with me. Sweating sucks and freezing is no cake walk either.

The first town I came to was filled with strange life and fancy new cars and technology I had never seen before. People passed me awkward glances and crossed the street to avoid the strange girl walking along the sidewalk. It wasn’t until I saw my reflection in a storefront window that I realized why they gave me such odd looks.

My hair was a complete disaster of tangled curls and dried blood. Purple bags stuck out against the pale skin of my face and deep veins throbbed on my neck. I leaned closer to the window and noticed a trail of dried blood at the corner of my mouth. I scrubbed it away with the sleeve of my hoodie and ran like hell to get away from the crowd.

Running only attracted more of the wrong attention. Someone called the police and sirens blared through that town like an ocean of madness ready to release a tidal wave of death in my direction.

But I still ran. I ran until the town was a mere shadow in the background of the world behind me. Until the snow stopped falling and I was completely alone in the middle of nowhere.

I ran for days, passing through cities and towns that gave me the same derisive looks. I met the same fate as police cars and governmental figures chased after me. And for what? Because I came back from the dead? Because I walked upright like a normal human being and could put on a damn good act to blend in?

No. They chase me for none of those reasons. They chase me because of what I became after I woke up. After I learned the truth about what happened to my body after I died and the insanity of experiments that brought me back.

You see, as much as I hate to admit this I am no longer a human. I can put on makeup to hide my pale skin and purple veins. I can put in contacts to deceive those around me that my eyes aren’t filled with a hunger drive so strong it could wipe out an entire city block within minutes. I can dress the part and act the part as a normal human being, but deep down inside my once beating heart, I know I’m not.

I’m nothing more than a savage beast, doomed to roam the world until the end of time. A constant hunger always burning in my mind and I can’t give in. I don’t want to give in to the creature I became after death or face the disgusting path my life is now headed down.

The government is after me. People want to kill me. I can blend in with a corpse like there’s no freaking tomorrow. I wish I could find the demented people who did this to me and turned me into a creature I prefer not to recognize, but there is no escaping this. There is no hiding the truth from myself or the rest of the world.

I am a zombie, but I’m trying not to be.

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Why I believe you should read my book…

I got asked by someone today why I thought they should buy my book over something similar. That’s a perfectly good question considering how I’ll probably get asked that a thousand times over the course of my writing career. I figured this would be a great time to tell the world why I believe my book is good and different from others.

First of all, and I’ve said this before, The Human Race is not your typical apocalyptic nightmare. There is no war or natural disaster or disease that sends the planet spiraling down a staircase straight to hell. Humans are responsible for the bad things that happen. They thought the world needed the ultimate cure, the one thing that would end all of mankind’s suffering and illness. Of course, they thought wrong. Side effects come from just about everything humans create so naturally something bad would come from something that’s supposed to be good. Then, when humans try to cure this bad thing, another side effect comes along and, well, zombies and vampires are born.

These are the glittering, falling in love with the main character, or skip out on a meal because they want to change type of zombies or vampires. No. These things are mean, horrifying, murderous, and extremely disgusting creatures. The main character, Bridget, along with the rest of the human race are forced to share the world with these creatures in an ill-attempt to find safety. It’s hard not to lose people you care about in a world where death and danger looms around every corner. Safety isn’t so easy to find either.

Now, I’m not going to give away the entire book because, hey I want you guys to read it. Of the few people who have left reviews on Amazon, all of them have been great. They love how this is different than the norm and I’ve heard from a few that they just couldn’t put the book down. It kept them on the edge of their seat the whole wild adventure. As an author, I love hearing that and can’t wait to get more of that reaction. So, out of all this, The Human Race is a horror story filled with adventure, survival, and even some love. What kind of writer would I be if I didn’t add some kind of love to my work.

I hope this has provided all of you with a deeper insight to The Human Race and I’m hoping more of you think “Hey, this sounds interesting, I think I want to read this.” As for now, I’m happy and elated just knowing my dream, the one thing I’ve worked so hard on, is out there and I’m getting a positive reaction.

The Human Race

Living in a world filled with zombies and vampires tends to have its perks sometimes and nineteen year old Bridget has learned how to make the best out of life due to these perks. She enjoys knowing how great she is at zombie killing and she’s far from shy on letting it show. The vampires are a different story. She has to get pretty close in order to kill them which she’s not a fan of doing.

As with every good thing, there is always something horrible lurking around the corner to make life harder. Bridget has to force herselt to get used to those hardships even as every last member of her family is ripped away from her by the monsters she loves to kill.

With a broken heart and a fully loaded 9mm gun, Bridget sticks to her father’s plan and continues heading North. Along the way, she meets a young man named Ryder and begins to realize there are still some things in the world worth living for. Love is able to find a way back into her heart and the two of them travel together in hopes of finding safety inside of a small city.
Safety is the last thing they find.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GQANF2I?ie=UTF8&force-full-site=1&ref_=aw_bottom_links