see lots more at: http://coffinhop.com/coffin-hop-2013/ Oct 24 to 31st, 2013
Check out COFFIN HOP: DEATH BY DRIVE-IN, profits will be donated to LitWorld.org to help encourage children’s literacy throughout the world.
Hey Coffin Hoppers:
I’ve picked a number between 1 and 1,000.
Whoever guesses correctly or gets closest gets their name used as one of the characters in my next book. Only one guess per commenter, to be fair. I’ll announce the winner November 1st.
Hop hearty. Visit all the sites. Aspen
I Joined the Zombie Walks
I heard about Zombie Walks just after my 13th birthday. I loved the concept. Somehow, that freedom to be unclean in public spoke to me.
Took me ’till my 15th before the parents allowed me to join. Course, that was a local event. Within the arbitrary distance circle they set.
“Let her go, John,” my mother pleaded, attempting to convince my father. “How often can she be part of any crowd?”
Father sighed, momentarily flicking a look up from his workday screen. “Fine. Remember to take your wraps with you. Be home before sunrise.”
Overjoyed, I napped that afternoon, figuring it to be the only way I’d stay awake all night.
I hopped a subway, trying to stay in the few shadows there. Nobody gave me a startled look for a change. I caught a few fellow riders glancing at me to above me and smile. I scanned the ads above. I’d stationed myself right under the Zombie Walk poster. I could have been the poster child.
Didn’t take long to find the crowd. Milling around just off the main drag, about a hundred costumed Zombies waited. More arrived every minute.
I saw tatters and rags, oozing sores, teeth blackened, missing fingers. All manner of makeup portraying the horrors of Zombie virus disabilities.
I knew I’d fit right in. From my place in the shadows, I unwrapped from my hoodie, pulled off my gloves, and opened my shirt. Confidently I joined the growing numbers.
I met people, became friends with strangers for the first time in my life. Me, deformed me, accepted for the first time in my life. They didn’t turn away in disgust.
“Cool makeup,” one kid gushed, touching a weeping sore on my chin. “What’d you use?” He tasted my ooze. “Yech. Whatever it is, don’t tell me. I like mine sweet. You should check out the makeup at the 47th Street store. For next year, I mean.”
I nodded. “I’ll check it out.”
I mingled, laughing at jokes I didn’t understand, enjoying the party atmosphere.
Several cliques practiced walks, teaching anyone interested. Sure, that staggered scramble, the unbalanced lurch hurt my hips. But I learned it, perfected it before we started the Walk.
I was hooked! Me, the ungodly, the shunned, the unseen. I reveled in this freedom where nobody spit at me, ordered me away. Where no one took offense from my appearance.
I told all my online friends, my fellow home-schooled, about this freedom, this acceptance. We all made a pact to join in whenever a Zombie Walk came near our homes. I’d never met them before. See, congregation is frowned by our society in this new world. Fraternization is dangerous as it announces our presence at the outskirts of their society.
By the time I’d turned 19, I’d entered every Walk within evening driving distance. My makeup garnered compliments not scorn. Missing fingertips didn’t faze these Walkers. I’d kissed and hugged dozens of people. I shared drinks, and straws, licked shared suckers. Lost my virginity in some dirty alley just this year. Not something I confessed to the parents, I assure you.
Me, the unholy, the despicable, society’s refuse. I belonged.
Home again, in Father’s preferred dim lighting, I overheard a hushed conversation.
“WHO’s mentioning an virus upswing here in North America. Among the young adults. Standard medicines aren’t working. Causing a bit of panic.” Father’s worried comment. I heard him rise, the bathroom medicine cabinet open and pills bottles shaken.
“Jo, you make sure you take those pills every night.”
“Sure Dad. I take ’em.” I assured him, not telling him I’d been flushing every other month’s rather than ingesting them. My buddies-in-disease and I decided two years ago to play with those medications. How can we fit in with this disease-friendly crowd if we haven’t lost parts of us? Aren’t rife with sores?
I’m accepted at these Zombie Walks, just part of the crowd. No wide berth taken around me, no rejection, or scorn.
I fit in. No one looks twice at me anytime now. I’m just another weird Zombie Walker. Accepted by mainstream society. I can walk safely out in public.
So, this year we decided, my buddies and I, to connect with the biggest Zombie Walk of them all. We met up on the outskirts; high-fived and set off to join the crowds. We split up once we found them.
See, we, society’s refuse, we understand you now.
to be continued…