One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale Read Online Free Page A

anything, which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand to full attention.
    “Ad—admiring the ceiling,” I stutter. Stupidly, because honestly, who’d admire a ceiling, unless it was the Sistine Chapel.
    “I’ve always liked our ceilings, but then again, I’m a bit partial to them.”
    There’s no nice way to ask, so I blurt it out. “Are you the thing that flew down from the ceiling yesterday?”
    “I’m the priest here, yes.”
    It’s only kind of an answer. I’m not sure what to do with it. “What are you? I mean, besides the priest.”
    Rumbling laughter fills the sanctuary. When it finally dies down, a scraping sound like I’d imagine tectonic plates rubbing together takes its place. “Is it all right if I come closer?”
    I’m not super happy with the idea and wish Lydia’d hurry up with her ‘errand’ and come back already. “I guess…”
    What I’m expecting is an old man, hunched over, face wrinkled and careworn. I don’t know why, I hear the grinding as he approaches, but it still scares me when I finally get a good look at him. True, he’s old. He’s also pockmarked, made of stone and three quarters covered in moss.
    Holy crap, the priest’s a gargoyle. I fumble my way to the nearest pew, which, as it turns out, is farthest from the doors. “But…you don’t exist!” Granted, it’s not the brightest thing I’ve ever said, but there it is.
    The thing grins at me. At least, it shows me two rows of super long, super sharp teeth. I’m hoping it’s a grin and not a prelude to dinner. “When is the last time you looked closely at the architecture on a church?”
    I blink. “Ummm…” is my oh, so intelligent reply. My mom would be so proud.
    “Gargoyles have existed for a millennium, and we’re not the only ones. I created this working church around that fact, after all.”
    Whatever that means.
    It continues as though my shock is nothing new. Maybe it’s not. Who knows. “Is there a specific reason you came here?”
    “Lydia invited me back. See, I’ve got this problem.” I kind of waggle my left hand in his direction. “Can you do anything about this?”
    In return, the creature holds up its claws. “I can’t unwrap the bandage. Would you mind doing it?”
    I do as it asks, and, as I knew it would, my hand drops to the stone floor.
    “Ah, I see your dilemma,” he says.
    It’s kind of hard not to. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I confess. “All I did was go on a date with my boy— ex -boyfriend, and when I woke up, everything started going pear-shaped.” I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t some kind of hallucination brought on by Andrew and his neck chewing fetish, but it can’t hurt to explore the options. “Do you know what’s happening to me?”
    I didn’t know creatures made of stone could shrug until that moment. Somehow that fact makes the whole conversation more normal.
    “Let’s backtrack a minute,” the creature says. “You’re already acquainted with Lydia, but I’m Father Moss.”
    I giggle at his name. I can’t help it. “Seriously?”
    “It was given to me before I collected lichen,” the priest replies. “It’s a family name.”
    Wait. “Does that mean there’re more of you? I mean, were you actually born?”
    Father Moss flexes his shoulders. Rocks groan. “I was created, as were my parents and my grandparents. We were all carved by the same man, you see.”
    I nod, even though I really don’t. I always thought creation implied a soul. Can you even carve something with a soul?
    “But we aren’t here to talk about me,” he continues. “Have you experienced any other symptoms lately?”
    Ummm...yeah. I fill him in: raw brains, eating like an animal, everything.
    “You need to use our computers,” Father Moss says.
    “Oh, I have a laptop,” I say. “Just give me the name of the website and I can look it up at home.”
    “Our computers are a bit more specialized than that,” the gargoyle