[ WP ] It 's not easy moving to a new place - especially when you 're a zombie just trying to fit in .

“ Mr. Larson. Mr. Larson! What are you doing Mr. Larson?! You can ’ t be doing that here! ” Samantha, Larry Larson ’ s landlady, scolded. 
 
 Larry Larson looked up with watery, broken eyes. He wore some disheveled business attire. He was sitting on the front steps of his seedy, worn down apartment building. A bird, dead, lay across his lap; the skull open, the pink brains exposed to the world, to the clean air of human eyes. 
 
 “ Mr. Larson, we ’ ve been over this before. I accept you for your condition, but that doesn ’ t mean you can be doing stuff like that in public. I even put up a sign to remind you. ” Samantha continued, pointing to a sign next to the front door. 
 
 Larry turned his head slowly. Green, decaying skin flaking off of his mortified flesh. He saw the sign, outlawing loitering, on the front porch. In parenthesis were the words ‘ That Means You Larry. ’. Mr. Larson looked down at the dead bird in his lap. He gave a few soft grunts, and took hold of the bird. With an awkward flail, he threw the bird off into the nearby bushes. Samantha folded her arms, and nodded in approval. 
 
 “ That ’ s a good boy. Gawd, the things I put up with in this city. ” She muttered to herself, turning to go walk down the crowded city street. She was headed for the nearby subway terminal. 
 
 Larry Larson sat on the porch, sad and lonely, watching his landlady waltz down the street. Larry sat on the stoop, eyes bleary and sad, mouth downturned in a frown. He groaned quietly to himself. He ’ d been fired form his office job last week and couldn ’ t afford a proper meal. He subsisted on rats and birds and mice and pigeons. He was thinking about breaking into a morgue for a quality meal, but the idea of food past its due date wasn ’ t too appealing. 
 
 With a sad grunt, Larry leveraged himself off the stoop. It took a couple of seconds, but soon he was standing, in his worn shoes, on the sidewalk. He started to shamble down the street, heading nowhere in particular. 
 
 Gasps of surprise, of disgust and intrigue, used followed Larry around back in his hometown. Luckily, this was New York City. No one paid any attention the disgusting, rotting corpse of a man in this city of filth and business and work and drugs and pleasure and trash. Larry Larson had moved to the city several months ago hoping to escape his horrid condition. Unfortunately, nothing much had changed. He was still sad, still lonely, still hungry, still depressed. 
 
 Larry wandered down the streets. He would let out a groan every once in a while as he shambled and shuffled. He passed windows, faces, alleys, cars, lights, advertisements, all blurring into a single, seamless image. In a corner of his mind, the one that liked to dream and fantasize, Larry had thought he ’ d be able to find a helping hand within the sprawl of the city; a kindred soul, a caring set of eyes that understood. Larry let out a sigh. He hadn ’ t been so lucky, and he doubted he ever would. 
 
 Turning down an alley behind an animal shelter, Larry contemplated his woes. He shambled down the alley until he found the backdoor. Larry prepared himself, and awkwardly raised a fist. He felt like crying, he felt desperate, hopeless. With several loud knocks, he knew this would be his last chance. 
 
 Larry stood shifting and wavering on his feet outside of the steel door. He grit his teeth, and was incredibly nervous. He ’ d emailed the shelter, asking for a job. After a bit of emailing, each party had realized they had a need for each other. It seemed the shelter was a bit short staffed, and were desperate to hire anybody at the moment. It also seemed that Larry was in desperate need for money and food. The arrangement had been a match made in heaven, but something inside of Larry ’ s mind told him something would go wrong. It always did. 
 
 The steel door squeaked open in front of Larry. It was dark inside, and Larry couldn ’ t see who was speaking to him, but it sounded like a woman. 
 
 “ You Larry? Come on in. ” She said. 
 
 Larry gave out a grunt, and shambled inside. He walked into a dark room, the only source of light the open door behind him. 
 
 “ Close the door. ” The woman said. 
 
 A slight fear ran through Larry, but he ignored it. Something felt fishy, felt wrong, but Larry didn ’ t care. He closed the door behind him. He didn ’ t care about anything anymore. He was penniless, friendless, jobless, he was hopeless. 
 
 As the door closed, Larry Larson was bathed in darkness. He turned back around to face the dark room. He felt a woman standing off to one corner, and felt a small animal running around the room. He hoped this wasn ’ t some type of prank; Larry just didn ’ t care anymore. 
 
 A click sounded through the dark, silent room. A lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flared up, illuminated the room. The room was sterile, tiled, a steel table sat in the middle. A small dog, lively and full of vigor, sat near the table, looking up at Larry with open eyes and a wagging tail. Larry ’ s eyes went from the dog, to the woman standing across the room from him. Larry ’ s eyes widened, and his lips moved to speak. 
 
 Across from Larry, a woman stood, her flesh decaying, her eyes watering, her skin slightly green and flaking. Her bleary eyes stared into Larry ’ s, and they widened in surprise. The two stared at each other in surprise, and a feeling of warmth, a feeling of life, rose inside of their chests. 
 
 “ Y-you must be Larry. ” The woman asked with a sweet smile. “ I ’ m Sara. Please, have a seat. ” She said, motioning to the table. Two chairs sat on either side of it. 
 
 Larry nodded. “ Y-yeah, sure. ” He shuffled over to the table. The chair ’ s legs scratched against the floor as he sat down. The woman sat down across from him. 
 
 “ Thank you for applying to the ad. We didn ’ t ’ get a lot of takers for some reason. ” Sara said. 
 
 “ Really? It seems like such a great gig though. ” Larry replied, his lips and mouth moving like they used to. His eyes were wide and clear, their bleary and watery covering nowhere to be found. 
 
 “ Yeah, it really is a great gig. ” Sara replied, a smile coming up to her lips. 
 
 Sara started to interview Larry, but soon the interview evolved to small talk and chatting and laughing. The green, flaking skin of Sara and Larry started to disappear, revealing the smooth, healthy skin of two young adults. They talked animatedly, and smiled openly. 
 
 After getting the job, as an animal caretaker and janitor, Larry asked Sara out on a date. He walked home that day, after the interview, with pep in his step. He didn ’ t shamble, he didn ’ t grunt and stare. He felt proud and happy, alive in his own skin. On the way back home, he bought himself some proper groceries, and promised to take care of himself. He needed to take care of himself now, he had a responsibility to take care of the animals at the shelter, and he had the hope, the promise of friendship in Sara; he couldn ’ t afford to go back to his old, painful habits. 
 
 The next day was the first day Larry was sober in years, he felt alive in his skin, and found it possible to smile. 
 
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 Hope you enjoyed the story! I've got tons of others over at my sub, r/ThadsMind, if you want to subscribe to it.
