"Don't be an idiot, kid! Wasting your wishes on something so banal is absolutely insane! If you welcome death so openly, just do it yourself. I'm sure no one is gonna miss ya. It's not like they care about a scared little wimp like yourself. I know I wouldn't want a friend that's too weak to be a man."

Her words caused him pain; a bee's stinger lodged in his heart. Even so, he knew it only hurt because she spoke the truth.

"Here, take this gun, put the barrel to your head and pull the trigger. Simple as that to solve all your petty, pathetic problems."

"But…" he whimpered, looking down at the weapon and back up to meet her heartless eyes. He was expecting empathy, but all he found in her gaze was sadistic amusement at his expense. "I don't want to kill myself. I just want everything to stop."

"I know what you want. You want to take the easy way out of this rat-infested world instead of changing it like you're supposed to. You were destined to clean this planet of its parasitic filth, but that task has proven too difficult for you to handle. So correct the mistake that is your existence and end it. All the sobbing and snot bubbles and pains that plague you will finally cease. Do it!"

The command lacked any sympathy for the victim. Egging him on only fueled her enjoyment and his resentment of life. Her words were a powerful persuasive force, aided by his past negative experiences. She was honest about it all, correct about every issue and ensured him that the only thing able to cure him of the constant agony of having to fill and empty his lungs with air was a bullet entering and exiting his skull. The more he thought it over, the more the option seemed to be a necessity.

"Do it now, or I'll do it for you!" That final yell of twisted encouragement was all he needed to tumble over the edge. He swallowed the lump in his throat, lifted the steel alien object, put the barrel to his temple as she instructed and let the world be deafened by the bang of a gunshot.

Comfortably perched upon a ledge, legs crossed, back straight, teeth shining through the gloom. She watched over him, her eyes deepened, darkened, shifting from an icy ocean to a midnight's sky without a moon. The body laid out on the table intrigued her. It had been the simplest effort to coerce him into ending his pitiful existence. So tedious that truthfully it bore her. What sparked her interest, however, were the challenges and excitement that awaited the pair.

The endgame of her plan seemed the most challenging, without her having a concrete understanding as to why. A nagging feeling, a whispering whim, or perhaps a premonition informed her that the favors this boy might call upon her to do would be more impossible to accomplish than what she planned on doing with him tonight; raising him from the dead.

Breath flowing back into his body was the first feeling he had. Unable to inhale of his own volition, the air blew into his chest from an outside source; it burned like a cloud of sulfur dioxide. Next was his heart's initial thump in his chest; a feeling of lightning striking throughout his entire body as the beating thundered in his ears. Afterwards was nothing but pain as his palms pushed his naked belly off the stingingly cold table surface. He scrambled to his feet, opened his eyes and tried straining his sight to pierce through the darkness.

Nothing made any intelligible sense to him; nothing was more than a swirl of colors with patches of blurry blackness in between. There was nothing around to see, hear or smell. There was only the constant cold, lonely ache freezing him all over, swelling from every beat in his chest; only the fiery sensation of agonizing emptiness inside, which only deepened his growing sorrow.

Then, there was a noise. It was hard for him to make out at first, but as he strained to listen more intently, he could decipher it as more than just a sound, but a voice. He struggled to hear the spoken words clearly, but finally it came through.

"Easy, boy" it said, and he stilled instantly, in fear that disobedience could frighten the voice off. "That's it, stay right where you are. I don't want your brain to overload and explode out of your skull. There's always a nasty mess afterwards, and I'm the one that would be forced to clean it."

Then there was silence. The warming voice had left him, and now he felt even colder than before. He waited, ignoring the emptiness that fed off the new abandonment. There was nothing reassuring the return of the voice, but he obliged anyway, with hope that the aching in himself would subside. His body stayed rigid, stiffening, only moving slightly as his pained organ that pumped life back into him quickened its pace.

His patience paid off and he was soon rewarded with the gift of coherent sight. Candles burned dimly in a circle around him. They did little to illuminate his environment, but the dark atmosphere was still an improvement from the previous blurs. There were multiple colored pipes, dusty wooden desks and a speckle of dripping water at the far reaches of his sight.

As he waited, his vision improved and more objects appeared out of the gloom, including one in particular above him. A silhouette of another person came into view right behind the line of light and darkness. No details were visible from where he stood, but as he reached out for her, he was hit by another wave of foreign sensations. The rest of his nerves caught fire as they reconnected with an electrical pulse. Worms crawled underneath his skin, inside his gut and around his eyes.

Just as suddenly, he was punished by the curse of smell. He gagged from the rancid odor invading his nose as more smoke scorched his throat. He tried screaming, but the suffocating stench forbade him. Panic set in. He lost control of his body and it stumbled around before collapsing to the ground.

"Ah!" the voice had returned, and the panic simply vanished. "Your senses are coming to life again, are they? In only a few minutes too! That's a new record. Usually it takes a few days after you dig yourself out of the grave. Then again, you weren't dead for very long. Only seven hours... of course maybe it's attributed to my massively effective voodoo skills. How ya feelin'?"

He tried to answer, but his tongue felt swollen and his jaw refused to work correctly. The exhale burned his own throat worse, and he settled for a somber whine.

"Oh no, I guess I spoke too soon. You can't talk? Maybe I overdid some of the potion during the ritual preparation. No worries though, I'm sure talking would only be a nuisance during this transition. Besides, I'd hate to hear you blabber or complain." She gave an amused sigh and floated from the balcony to the floor, light as a feather, and finally exposed herself to him.

She wore blue garments that were see-through everywhere except for what she wanted to keep private where the material darkened. Soot colored hair with strands of purple and blue flowed down her back like water from a stream. Her twisted smile was accented by rosy red lipstick, and her eyes, lit by candle light, were as deep as the ocean to look into; deep enough to swallow him whole.

She approached him coolly, with a joyful bounce to each step. She bent down to examine him closer, and grinned deviously. "This is going to be the most fun I've had in decades. Zombies make the cutest pets."