His research was love. His research was life.
He dedicated almost everything he had to his work. In fact he was more engrossed in dealing with the dead than the living. He didn’t require anyone for his work nor will he ever. Sometimes he even found it enjoyable to speak to the dead, to listen to the history they had before their inevitable death, but then again even that too got annoying. A lot of them were in his opinion ‘whiners’. All they did was mope about and pray that somebody like him would come around so that he could go find their lost teddy bear or ‘tell her I always loved her’. A whole lot of them were nothing but a bunch of fools. Perhaps the worst time he had ever spent in a single place was Vegas. Elvis Presley wasn’t pleased with the whole ‘impersonating’ thing.
The dead were always amongst them. He saw them every day on the streets wherever he went. Seeing them became a part of him and his uneventful life. It took a long time to embrace the fact that he was always going to see them; no matter what he did but he could do things about that at least. Warding was a beautiful thing when he really needed sleep. All of the voices would always vanish except for one. Why? Well, till this day he never found an explanation. ‘Emily’ had clung onto him for years. Seriously, she should just let it go and move on. Just because he killed her for an experiment didn’t mean he deserved to be haunted for the rest of his life. If only he knew that she had strong spiritual energy, then he would have picked someone else to off.
Ssshunk.
He tossed the dirt over his shoulder and jammed the shovel into the dirt. Just a few more feet and maybe he’d could get the hell out of this cemetery. Cemeteries were the worst place for someone such as himself. It was full of them. Most of them wandered around aimlessly. Others stood over their graves, wondering what they did to deserve death; They were usually the ‘fresh’ ones. Then there were the select few that actually approached him, asking where they were, who he was, and why did he dig up a corpse that looked exactly like them. He dug up the coffin quick and broke the lid with a hard hit of the shovel.
â€ÂYou’re such a creepy man, Stross. Why can’t you be a normal geek and go play World of Warcraft or something?â€Â
He frowned and tossed the shovel out of the hole. There she went again with her incessant nagging. â€ÂZhen don’t vatch! I did not ask for your opinion and zhere’s no such vurld as Varcraft! Be silent!†he snapped and pried the broken pieces of the lid away. Almost immediately he was hit with that familiar musky stench. He was used to it by now and it didn’t deter him from grinning eagerly.
Emily scoffed. â€ÂOh for god’s sake, please don’t get a hard-on today. That’s just disgusting.â€Â
â€ÂI am NOT getting—PLEASE BE QUIET, FRAULEIN!†He shrieked and reached out of the hole to snatch up the lantern. Time to examine the corpse. Perhaps the only thing good about cemeteries is that nobody would ever come around in the middle of the night…Right?
He dedicated almost everything he had to his work. In fact he was more engrossed in dealing with the dead than the living. He didn’t require anyone for his work nor will he ever. Sometimes he even found it enjoyable to speak to the dead, to listen to the history they had before their inevitable death, but then again even that too got annoying. A lot of them were in his opinion ‘whiners’. All they did was mope about and pray that somebody like him would come around so that he could go find their lost teddy bear or ‘tell her I always loved her’. A whole lot of them were nothing but a bunch of fools. Perhaps the worst time he had ever spent in a single place was Vegas. Elvis Presley wasn’t pleased with the whole ‘impersonating’ thing.
The dead were always amongst them. He saw them every day on the streets wherever he went. Seeing them became a part of him and his uneventful life. It took a long time to embrace the fact that he was always going to see them; no matter what he did but he could do things about that at least. Warding was a beautiful thing when he really needed sleep. All of the voices would always vanish except for one. Why? Well, till this day he never found an explanation. ‘Emily’ had clung onto him for years. Seriously, she should just let it go and move on. Just because he killed her for an experiment didn’t mean he deserved to be haunted for the rest of his life. If only he knew that she had strong spiritual energy, then he would have picked someone else to off.
Ssshunk.
He tossed the dirt over his shoulder and jammed the shovel into the dirt. Just a few more feet and maybe he’d could get the hell out of this cemetery. Cemeteries were the worst place for someone such as himself. It was full of them. Most of them wandered around aimlessly. Others stood over their graves, wondering what they did to deserve death; They were usually the ‘fresh’ ones. Then there were the select few that actually approached him, asking where they were, who he was, and why did he dig up a corpse that looked exactly like them. He dug up the coffin quick and broke the lid with a hard hit of the shovel.
â€ÂYou’re such a creepy man, Stross. Why can’t you be a normal geek and go play World of Warcraft or something?â€Â
He frowned and tossed the shovel out of the hole. There she went again with her incessant nagging. â€ÂZhen don’t vatch! I did not ask for your opinion and zhere’s no such vurld as Varcraft! Be silent!†he snapped and pried the broken pieces of the lid away. Almost immediately he was hit with that familiar musky stench. He was used to it by now and it didn’t deter him from grinning eagerly.
Emily scoffed. â€ÂOh for god’s sake, please don’t get a hard-on today. That’s just disgusting.â€Â
â€ÂI am NOT getting—PLEASE BE QUIET, FRAULEIN!†He shrieked and reached out of the hole to snatch up the lantern. Time to examine the corpse. Perhaps the only thing good about cemeteries is that nobody would ever come around in the middle of the night…Right?
