Felix

(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 No. 2 ══════💀 Graveyard session #22. Set up by the marble angel statue today, the one with the broken wing. Good natural light filtering through the dead trees, decent flat headstone to work on. Got about fifteen minutes of peace before the ghouls showed up. Then the skeletons. Then the crows, because of course the crows came. They always come. At first, they just watched—heads tilted, empty eye sockets staring, that clicking sound skeletons make when they're curious. Fine. Whatever. I can work with an audience. Even showed one of them my sketch of the mausoleum. He seemed into it, gave me a little bone-rattle of approval. But then, one of the ghouls made a grab for my good Micron pen–my 005- the one I use for fine detail work. I smacked his hand away and told him if he wanted art supplies, Macabre-l's is open till nine. He slouched off looking offended. A crow stole my eraser while I wasn't looking. I'm never getting that back. At least they appreciate the work, I guess.