lo I came out with a story of sort. It’s not read worthy. The undead of this world Looming in the darkness sat a shadowy figure of one. How long or when it's been there, one could only assume. What sickens you more, a cockroach or a cockroach the shape of a man? It desires a solace that is not death but how could that be? "Leave anything long and stagnant enough and it'll start to rot and smell. Why don't you try it out on something organic and moist?" Why did you do it? Are you really that disillusioned and disturbed? " you.” says he with a grin. Only the ticking of a father clock soothe its empty heart now. For time does not move with this wretched being. At least in its own head, it works fine just for everyone else.