How The Other Half Lives

Some ghost stories are told from the other side.

How the Other Half Lives

        Annette moved around the room quickly. One would not think it was possible for such a heavy set woman to move with the grace and speed as she was, and many would be amazed. She was easily near 300lbs, but she appeared light on her feet. Her chest heaved as her breathing increased. She had literally run through the rest of the mansion, looking for a vial, but had come up empty handed. Sweat dripped from her brow and the down the side of her head, where locks of hair hung down just past the bottom of her ears. She knew she must have looked awfully homely, the way she looked from the perspiration, not to mention the dress she wore showed stains collected from time in the kitchen, out in the gardens, and cleaning the house.
        None of that mattered to her right now, though. Her concern was for the children. She loved those lovely and innocent children. Annette wanted to sing something to calm her nerves, something to reassure her that everything was okay, and would be okay. However, right now, she didn't feel much like singing.

        
Back when she was a child, before her mother was separated from her, she would sing all sorts of lovely songs. Most of them were about their Lord and included the promises of riches and love when they finally met him in Heaven. After the separation, she was brought to a small town where she was sold to the highest bidder.
        
The man who had taken her in was a nice man. The work that he asked of her never exceeded the difficulty for a girl her age. Mainly, she attended to the gardens, usually just the flowers, cooked and cleaned. He never laid a hand upon her, and always treated her more like part of the family than a slave. She was sad when, one night, she had gone to bring him his hot cup of tea in bed before bedtime, and had found him dead from a heart attack. She knew, at that moment, that her life as she had been living was gone forever.

She was about twenty when she was brought to another town, and sold, again, to the highest bidder. This time, the man who had bought her, had been Mr. Beaureguard. He had seemed pleasant enough when they had first met, but she could tell by his eyes and his demeanor that he was not going to be anything like her previous master. In the years to follow, she attempted to serve Mr. Beaureguard and his wife well. For a while, she continued to do what she had previously done. She was, once again, in charge of gardening, cooking, cleaning, along with sewing and looking after the horses, although she was only allowed to feed and water them.
Mr. Beaureguard was very particular about what he wanted Annette to do, and how to do it. At first, he would only yell at her, and tell her that she wasn't doing something right, or that she was not supposed to something at all. This upset Annette, but usually when Mr. Beaureguard sent her away afterwards, she always wound up in the kitchen with Mrs. Beaureguard, talking over a cup of tea.
Mrs. Beaureguard was a very nice woman. Annette would not go as far as to say that Mrs. Beaureguard considered her a family member, but maybe more like a friend that never left. Annette was never allowed to talk about Mr. Beaureguard, yet Mrs. Beaureguard freely opened up about how she wished her husband was more patient with the both of them. She frequently thanked Annette for the work she did around the mansion and outside. Annette knew that as long as Mrs. Beaureguard was around, it made life for her at lot easier.
Annette's mother had always instilled in her, that no matter where she lived and whom she lived with, she was to be treat them as she would want to be treated. She was never to raise her voice unless necessary, never strike another unless in self defense, and, most importantly, to always love others as if the Lord himself were standing there testing her faith.


Annette continued to root around the kitchen, pulling open cabinets, one by one as she went. It had to be there, somewhere. She couldn't think about how bad it would be if she miscalculated and found that she had not been as prepared as she thought she had. The consequences of an oversight such as that were too much to bear on her conscious. Annette continued to search, her mind racing, playing snippets of her past as she raced against time.


About seven years after Annette joined the Beaureguards, Mrs. Beaureguard surprised Mr. Beaureguard and herself both with the news of her pregnancy. Annette knew that Mr. Beaureguard was happy, even though his first comment was "About time."
For some reason, Mrs. Beaureguard had decided to talk to Annette about the baby instead of Mr. Beaureguard. Mrs. Beaureguard never said why, per say, but Annette figured that it was because Mr. Beaureguard didn't have the time to talk about things that seemed more important for the wife and future mother. Once when Mrs. Beaureguard had asked her husband about names for the baby, his response was "I don't care as long as he's healthy." In fact, Mr. Beaureguard's disposition about such things as baby names, nursery colors, and other things continued with the arrival of the second and third child that Mrs. Beaureguard bore for him. In all, the Beaureguards now had a boy and two girls.

In the coming years, as Annette got older and more familiar with the life of the Beaureguards, it seemed that the overall demeanor of Mr. Beaureguard had started to change. The change meant more time away from the family and mansion for Mr. Beaureguard, and more time spent with the children for Annette. Annette loved the children. She would sing them songs, played games with them, and when they began going to school, even helped them with their lessons. The older the children got, the more she treasured them as if they were her own.
Things went smooth, for the most part, until Mrs. Beaureguard became ill. Annette was not sure how it happened, but three mornings ago; Mrs. Beaureguard had awakened to rattling in the breaths she took, coughing fits, and a high fever. Mr. Beaureguard had called the doctor, and upon inspection, found that she had bronchitis.
Annette had experienced this before a long time ago when she still lived with her mother. Her mother had taught her about a few herbs that were told to have healing effects. She had said that, where God may have allowed sickness to enter our world, he also provided us the tools we needed to treat them. Her great great grandfather was a voodoo doctor, and passed down his knowledge of herbal cures down with him. Obviously, her family no longer practiced the voodoo arts, but they didn't continue to create their own medicines. Annette had remembered an old recipe that was said to alleviate the symptoms of bronchitis, allowing the body to heal much faster and easier. She had intended on making the remedy, and giving it to Mrs. Beaureguard. However, she was never able to see her plan through.


While searching through one particular cupboard, Annette stopped. She felt as though a pair of eyes were watching her. Expecting to see one of the neighbors had joined her this evening, looking for Mr. Beaureguard; she turned and saw no one. She was starting panic, now, and knew why she was so jumpy. If anyone were to find out what had happened, she would be put to death. The thought caused her to repeatedly pray softly, but out loud to herself. Suddenly, something caught attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, and gasped at what she saw.
Moving silently, but gracefully, was the translucent image of a woman. It seemed to be walking, not making a sound, across the kitchen. The woman seemed to be looking for something, turning her head from side to side, up and down. When she opened her mouth, only a slight whisper escaped. The sound was barely audible, all Annette was able to make out, was the word "Annette"�her name.


The next day, Annette had entered the bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Beaureguard, Mrs. Beaureguard was asleep. Sweat had dampened her matted hair which lay around her pillow and shoulders against her bed clothes. Her chest rattled as it moved up and down. Her complexion seemed pale in comparison to the dark blue comforter that she had pulled up to her waist. Her eyes conceived a notion of weakness from the lack of sleep she had received since taking on the illness.
Annette brought the mixture of herbs and warm water to the side of the bed. She put her hand across Mrs. Beaureguard's forehead and began to chant a prayer. She told herself that once she had completed this healing, and Mrs. Beaureguard was well again, this might very well change things between Mr. Beaureguard and herself. It would certainly make her look more useful than what he gave her credit for.
With Annette concentrating on her task, she did not notice that someone was standing at the door, peeking through, watching her every move in a sense of wonder and fear. If it would not have been for the creak in the floor, Annette would never have even caught a glimpse of the young boy, wide eyed with a scared look on his face, that turned and went running downstairs. She knew that children knew very little about the world around them, and it was very easy for one to not known exactly what they saw or heard. That's when imaginations ran wild.





In one quick puff of smoke, the ghost was gone. Annette stood there, unable to believe what she had just seen. What had she just seen? Was it a ghost? Or maybe it was a reaper, coming to take her soul for the sins she had just committed. Annette put a hand to her chest. Her heart felt as though it was beating uncontrollably. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe she was just seeing things. The heat of the evening, left over from the warm sun that beat down on this southern plantation, was making Annette exhausted. She turned, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a small vial sitting on the kitchen table. She was sure that it hadn't been there before her startling encounter. Maybe she had simply overlooked it. None of that mattered, now. She grabbed the vial tightly, as if it was the head of a snake, which would stick its venomous fangs into her hand if she were to give it even the slightest of slack. Annette, then, turned and quickly headed out of the kitchen.




Later that afternoon, when the children were back from school, Annette was tending to supper while the children did their homework. It had seemed like any other normal afternoon, except that the children were acting funny. She would turn and smile at them, but the faces looking back at her were more accusing, and a bit of fear. Annette had ignored it, for the most part, thinking that maybe they had done something they shouldn't have and knew they were going to get punished if someone were to find out. Surely, however, they knew that the most severe punishment that she had ever, or would ever, give them would be a stern lecture. She would have never laid a hand on them. Just then, the youngest child, a girl named Emma, spoke up.
"Are you a witch?" she asked timidly.
Emma was 4-years old. She was small, with sweet blonde hair and an adorable face. Annette had thought she looked precious enough to be an angel. This was why when the question came out of Emma's mouth, it caught her off guard. Annette's brow furrowed a bit, and she paused, not knowing what to say at first.
"Now, darling," she said with a smile, "why would you ask a thing like that?"
Emma looked at her older sister and brother. Her brother, a 12-year old named Jonathon, gave her a glare and shook his head at her. Her sister, an 8-year old named Samantha, had a look of alarm. Emma looked at both, unsure why they were so upset and worried. It was too late to go back, now, though.
"That's why John says." she said, as innocently as she could.
Annette was surprised by this. She was having a hard time understanding why any of these children would make up such things about her. She placed one hand on her hip and turned toward Jonathon.
"And why would Jonathon say such a mean thing?" she asked, giving him an accusing look.
Jonathon looked up at her, his face looked hard, too hard for a child to bear.
"Because that's the teacher at school taught us. She taught us about what happened at Salem. She said that the women were practicing witchcraft." he said, coldness in his voice.
Annette chuckled slightly, but nervously, "And you think that's what I do�practice this witchcraft?"
She knew, at that moment that Jonathon had seen her in his mother's room. He saw the ritual, and, not understanding it, classified it as witchcraft.
"I saw you doing something to our mother. I heard you, too. You weren't praying." he said, accusingly.
Samantha and Emma just sat there, looking back and forth from their older brother, to the woman who had been like a grandmother to them. Neither of them was brave enough to add anything to either argument.
"Now you listen to me, young man," Annette began in a stern, but still loving voice, "I was trying to help your mother. She's very sick, and the stuff I used on her was for healing. They were a mix of natural herbs that are formed to create something that will get rid of the bad stuff in your mother's body. The stuff I was saying might not be your regular prayer, but it is still a prayer to our Lord."
Jonathon stood up quickly and yelled, "No! You're witch! I'm telling Pa!"
And with that, he tore out of the house. The two girls, scared at how their big brother was acting, jumped up and followed him out the door. Annette swallowed hard. She was afraid at how Mr. Beaureguard would take the story from his son. Maybe he would tell him that his childish imagination was running away from him. Otherwise, if he believed even the slightest word, her life would surely be over.



As Annette came out of the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks, again. To her astonishment, there was the female ghost again. She appeared to still be looking all around. Now, however, Annette was able to make out at least some features. The woman did not wear any type of dress that she had ever seen. The ghost appeared to be wearing some sort of shirt that, Annette noticed, did not cover her entire upper torso. She could barely make out the hint of a belly button exposed. On the shirt, was a picture that did not make sense her. It looked like a weird triangle, from which a rainbow of colors spewed forth.
Adding to the bizarre show playing out in front of her, Annette saw yet another ghost. This one was male, and also appeared to be looking around, as if searching for something. However, whereas the female ghost had not seen her either times, now, the male ghost stopped walking when it appeared to be looking in her direction. She then distinctly heard the male ghost speak.
"That must be her!" it said.
The female ghost looked at the male ghost, who was holding something in his hands, and then looked in Annette's direction, also. Annette was now certain these two were sent to punish her and drag her to Hell itself. Terrified, she screamed loudly at them.
"LEAVE ME ALONE! IT WASN'T MY FAULT!" Annette yelled and ran upstairs.



Earlier this evening, after Annette had put the children to bed, Annette was met in the kitchen by Mr. Beaureguard. He was looking out of the kitchen window, a glass of bourbon in his hand. Annette had a nervous feeling about what was about to transpire, but she stood there in the kitchen, silent, waiting. After about a minute or two, without turning around, Mr. Beaureguard spoke.
"Jonathon claims that you were practicing voodoo on the misses earlier this morning." he said, "Is this true?"
Annette sighed, "As I told your son, sir, it's not voodoo. It's a healing ritual I learned from my great great grandfather, through my mother. It's not harmful in anyway, I swear. The herbs I used-", but she was cut off.
"The only thing you need to be doing," Mr. Beaureguard's voice began to raise, anger seeped from his lips and eyes, "is tending to my wife's needs, as well as your normal duties. You are to leave the healing to the doctor! Do I make myself clear!?"
"Please sir," Annette began, trying to smooth things over the best she could manage; "I did not mean any disrespect. My intentions were-". She was cut off again.
Mr. Beaureguard was yelling now, "I don't give a damn about your intentions! You are my slave, and you listen to ME! You do NOT think for yourself!"
It was apparent that Mr. Beaureguard had been drinking more than this glass of bourbon. He seemed to slur his words as he spoke, Annette noticed. She was always afraid when this happened. When he began to drink too much, he became more violent. Sober, he would occasionally backhand her for talking without permission, among other things, but they rarely left more than a small mark. However, when he had too much to drink, the violence became greater.
At times, she had gotten take out back behind the sheds and beaten when something wasn't done to his specifications, or the misses'. Once, one of the children had scrapped their knee on the way home from school, which, according to the inebriated Mr. Beaureguard, was all her fault. She had taken some nasty beatings because of that, as well. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Beaureguard's kind nature, Annette knew that she would not live at this place for very long.
All at once, Mr. Beaureguard threw down his glass at Annette's feet. Glass shattered as it hit the floor. Shards jumped up and nipped at Annette's feet, not hard enough to draw any blood, but hard enough for it to sting. Annette began to get scared. With Mrs. Beaureguard unable to join them, there was no telling how far Mr. Beaureguard would go.




Annette reached the top of the stairs, turned towards the children's rooms, and ran. If those two were, in fact, from beyond the grave to execute vengeance on her, then she must act quickly. Surely they it was because of the children they appeared, not also because of Mr. Beaureguard. He was such cruel and spiteful person, that she couldn't believe that they were going to do the same for him. Yet, if they didn't go away after saving the children, she would do her best to help Mr. Beaureguard, as well.
As she ran down the hall, she was taken aback by, yet, another ghost materializing from the wall next to her. It seemed to just jump right out into her path. Before she could react, she had walked right through it. She was surprised, at first, that she did not feel any different. She would have though that she would have felt something. Then, all at once, a new feeling hit her. She was unable to wrap her mind around it, but it felt different. For that instant, she felt as though all worry, sadness, and fear had all left her body. The moment that she was on the other side of the apparition, it all returned to her. Annette spun around suddenly, fear gripping her once again, as she heard the apparition wailing uncontrollably. She watched as the apparition, who appeared to be another young woman, put her face in her hands and sobbed. Annette turned, and ran the rest of the way to the end of the hall, where the children lay waiting to either die, or be healed.




"I am so sick of you around here, Annette!" Mr. Beaureguard hollered at her. "You can't do anything right around here. Well, by God, I'm not going to just sit around and let you destroy this family. I'll be damned if I go weak like our damn president seems to be right now."
With that, Mr. Beaureguard staggered at Annette. With one hand, he grabbed her arm, in the other; he grabbed her throat, and with surprising force for a drunken man, pushed up against countertop. His hand on her throat began to squeeze. Annette was terrified. As she struggled to breath through the man's grasp, thoughts ran through her head. Thoughts of death, pain, and fear. She tried to struggle, but the more she struggled, the more Mr. Beaureguard squeezed on her throat, and the hard he hung onto her arm.
Then, as if uncontrolled by herself, her other arm came to life. Like a cat stalking a mouse in the grass, her hand began to move, ever so slowly to a draw just under the countertop. Annette was starting to choke as Mr. Beaureguard squeezed as hard as he could, determined to send this "black witch" to Hell from which she came. Then, Annette started to feel his grip on her lessen. Little by little, she was able to breathe again. During this brief brush with death, Annette had shut her eyes, and tried to imagine what Heaven would be like. However, now, she opened her eyes, little at a time. When she looked into Mr. Beaureguard's face, she was puzzled by the look in his eye. Her gaze, curiously, moved toward the bottom of his face, where she was surprised to suddenly see a trickle of blood start to ooze out from between his lips.
Annette's eyes widened, and looking down, noticed her free hand was pressed up against Mr. Beaureguard's abdomen. Slowly, she pulled her hand away, revealing a carving knife, covered in bright red blood. She opened her hand, and heard the sound of metal against hard floor. Annette had no idea how she had done it, but Mr. Beaureguard's grip increasingly softened. She continued standing in the kitchen, as she watched Mr. Beaureguard's body fall to the floor in a heap, with a loud thud.
Annette stood in the kitchen, her feet stuck to the floor by a red pool of blood forming around her. She stood there, not moving, for several minutes. Not knowing what to do, next, she pulled up one foot and stepped out of the blood. Annette turned and backed away from the scene in front of her. Horrified, she watched as red footprints continued to point to the mass of blood and body heaped on the floor no matter how far she walked away from it. Her next thought that ran through her head, was the children. Annette slipped off her shoes, and quickly made her way up to the children's rooms. The sight before her made her gasp, clutch her chest.





When Annette reached the children's rooms, she felt as though she was running out of time. Surely, the ghosts downstairs were a sign that death was soon to follow. When she entered the girls' bedroom, she feared she would be too late. Both girls lay motionless in their beds, drenched in their own sweat. It was if someone had just pulled them out of the river and laid them in bed.
Annette put a hand to Emma's forehead, it felt way too hot. She pulled out the vial, and popped the cork from the opening. Before she had a chance to administer the contents of the vial to the little girl, Annette felt a presence in the room. Turning, she watched as all three ghosts now entered the room. One of them was still holding the odd box and scanning the room as they did. The second one continued to look around as if blind and looking for something. The third was now holding was looked like a smaller box, about the size of a box of matches. She could now hear, more clearly, the voices. They were asking her if she was there, and if she would show that she was there.
Annette was frightened, but more than anything, she was now angry. With a determination to save the children, she stood up and yelled at the apparitions.
"LEAVE ME ALONE! THE CHILDREN ARE NOT YOURS! LEAVE THIS PLACE! LEAVE NOW!" she yelled as bravely as she could.
As she did, she watched as one of the ghosts jumped, as if startled. Annette watched the one who jumped appear to pick up an object off the floor. Although Annette was unable to see anything in their hand, she could tell that they believed something was their possession, now. Annette watched as the specters continued to rummage around the room. Ignoring them for the time being, she took the vial and poured the contents down Emma's throat. She then moved to Samantha and did the same. Jonathon was already gone, but maybe she could at least save the girls.





When Annette went to check on the children, she was not prepared for what she saw. For when she opened Jonathon's door, she noticed that he was sitting up in bed, grabbing his stomach, and dry heaving. She rushed into his room, stopping at her side.
"Jonathon, honey, what's wrong?" she said, putting a hand on his back.
"It's all�your fault." he gasped between heaves, glaring at her as he did, "I put�rat poison�in the honey�to�teach you�a lesson�hoping you'd�drink it with�your tea�before bed. I�should�have known�that you�knew�and punished�me for�it."
Annette was shocked at what she had just heard. After the shock wore off, she was mortified as she remembered that she had made all three girls, and their mother, a cup of hot milk and honey before they went to bed. With the realization sinking in, she jumped up and fled to the girls' room. Their, she saw them lying in bed, gasping in bed. Pools of vomit and blood lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.
"Sweet mother of God," Annette whispered to herself, "what have I done?"
With that, Annette sprang to life, turning back to head downstairs to the kitchen. No one in the family knew, but Annette had made a special concoction a while back for such just an occasion. Not that she ever assumed that there would ever be a mass poisoning in the house, but it was an all around detox. It was another thing she had learned from her great great uncle's medicine knowledge.
On her way past, she noticed Jonathon was no longer sitting up in bed, dry heaving. She ran into the room, and noticed that he appeared to be sleeping in the fetal position, still clutching his stomach, his eyes wide as if staring at the wall across from him. Annette stooped down, and put a cheek to Jonathon's open mouth. No air touched her cheek. She checked the side of the neck with two of her fingers. The neck was still warm, but it did not produce the gentle motion of life. Annette shut her eyes hard, said a quick and silent prayer for the boy, opened her eyes and gently closed the lids of the boys'. Although, he was gone, there were still two girls that she might be able to save. However, time was of the essence.
Quickly, she ran out of the room. As she did, she heard the creaking of the front door. Terrified that it was a neighbor, she peered down from the top of the stairs. The door did, indeed, open. But no one had walked through the threshold. As she made her way to the bottom of the stairs, she looked around. With no one in sight, she walked over, and shut the door. The door closed hard with a loud thud. Annette turned and entered the kitchen. She had to find that vial.




The antidote did not seem to be working as far as Annette could tell. The girls were now dry heaving, now that all of the contents of their stomach were on the floor. The ghosts were still milling around the room, which made Annette uneasy. Then, all at once, one of the ghosts walked up the bed, but did not stop at the bed. He was able to walk through it. The ghost stopped right in the middle of the bed where little Emma was curled up, now clutching her stomach as well. This was the last straw. Annette had had enough. She stood up from the bed from which had sat down, and faced the ghost. She reached over and picked up one of the small chairs that Emma used for her dolls when she played tea party with them. Pulling it back, she swung hard and at the ghost's back.
The ghost flew off its feet, if ghosts even had feet, and landed on the ground. The other two ghosts turned, and ran to the third's side, helping it up. Annette began to yell at them again, fear put aside and turned to rage. This was a rage that she never knew she had. It was an anger that had slowly built its way up into her from everything she had dealt with throughout the years. She stomped over to the three ghosts, and screamed.
"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE, NOW! I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE NOW!" she screamed with all her might.
At that, she plainly heard the female ghost scream with terror. All three of the ghosts fled from the room at such speed, that it empowered Annette. She continued to shout at them as she followed them down the hall, leaving them to sprint down the stairs and out the door. Now that this threat was gone, Annette felt relieved, certain that these evil messengers of death were gone, that things would get better. Once the girls recovered from this disastrous situation, she would take them away from here and raise them herself. She would start a new life of her own, with a family she never had. Annette walked back and sat with the girls. Stroking Emma's hair, and watching Samantha.
"Everything will be alright, now," she said, "I'm taking care of everything. You'll be just fine."
Then, Annette felt her stomach tighten, as if it was cramped. Then it dawned on her. She had, indeed, added that same honey to a cup of tea just prior to her last encounter with Mr. Beaureguard. The pain was beginning to become unbearable, as she lay down next to Emma.



Outside, Jerry, Max, and Kim stood, breathing hard as if they had just run a marathon. They had heard stories of the Beaureguard mansion, but they wanted to catch something for themselves. They had heard about the slave/nanny that had murdered the husband, and poisoned the wife and children. However, in a last act of remorse and dread of being caught, she had poisoned herself as well, dying in the same room as the two young girls. The story was what made Jerry and Max want to investigate. Their friend, Kim, was a friend of theirs who claimed that she was able to contact the spirits of the dead. With Jerry's video camera, and Max's digital voice recorder, they planned on catching either video footage, or EVP, electric voice phenomena, to show to their friends.
What they didn't count on, was the eerie feelings that they had encountered. When they had entered the kitchen, the room was deathly cold. From there, it had only gotten worse. They had followed an orb of light from the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hall. Now, they also had voices on the recorder, demanding they leave and to leave them alone. Their only explanation was that it was the voice of Annette the slave woman who haunts the mansion.
Things turned from just creepy, to dangerous, when something threw a piece of old wood from the floor at them from across the room. However, the point at which they knew it was time to go was when Kim had been knocked to the ground by some unseen force. She had said that it felt as though something heavy had hit her right on the back just as the spot she had stood at turned ice cold. When Jerry and Max went to help her up from the floor, all three of them could feel a dark and evil force. The feeling was so overwhelming, that they all decided it was time to go, and fled as fast as their feet could carry them, out of the house.
Now, with the evidence they had obtained, they planned on uploading the videos, sound bits, and their stories to the internet. Their hope was that people were aware that spirits did exist, and that they were not merely ghost stories told to scare you.

The End

Author's Note

I used the large spaces to help separate the present part from the flashbacks. And just in case any of you are real grammar nuts, I have plenty of tabbed paragraphs in my original. I just felt too lazy to re-tab them all after pasting it to this.

Reviews

[DearSweetAgony]

WOW!
That was one of the best stories that I have ever read.I must admit I did not understand the beginning, but it all tied up in the end.If you wrote that whole story by yourself then you are like the new Rod Sterling.I love how the living was the dead and the dead was the living.It creates a new theory for the world unknowed.That was a beautiful story,just beautiful!