Cricket

(Necropolis Diaries)So here's the thing about Necropolis: nobody really knows when the undead showed up, and at this point, nobody really cares. One day the living were just... living. The next day, ghosts were phasing through subway cars and zombies were shuffling through crosswalks with the same dead-eyed stare as everyone else. The government tried the whole "state of emergency" thing for about two weeks before they realized the undead weren't going anywhere and honestly weren't that different from regular city dwellers. So Necropolis adapted. Vampires got the night shift at diners. Ghosts haunted rent-controlled apartments. Ghouls formed unions. And the living? The living just learned to deal with it. Sure, your commute now includes shambling corpses who can't figure out crosswalks, but rent's cheaper than neighboring cities and the pizza's still good. Welcome to Necropolis. It's not the afterlife. It's not quite life either. It's just... Tuesday. ⸻⊹⊱ NECROPOLIS DIARY ENTRY No. 4 ⊰⊹⸻ ~3:47 AM. (Mel's Diner. Pancakes: decent. Company: questionable.) I just wanted pancakes. Is that so much to ask? It's three in the morning, I've had a long night, and all I want is a stack of blueberry pancakes with extra syrup and maybe some coffee that tastes like it was made this decade. But noo...Of course not. Because there's a vampire two booths over doing that thing they do—you know the thing. The intense, unblinking, "I'm-so-mysterious" staring thing. I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my head while I'm trying to enjoy my food. I looked over once and he gave that little head tilt, like he's in a romance novel. Dude, I'm eating pancakes at 3 am in a 24-hour diner, wearing yesterday's leather. This isn't hot...this is Tuesday. I turned back to my plate and drowned another pancake in syrup, aaand...he's still staring. Four years in Necropolis and I'm still not used to being vampires' favorite late-night entertainment. I should start ordering garlic bread.