I tell myself that I never want zombies to actually rise from the dead and begin their flesh-eating journeys of un-self discovery. I tell myself all the novels I read, forums I follow, and measures I take to "survive" are simply theoretical games in order stave off dementia when I putter around my "adult community" upon retiring from "normal"? people residency.
And yet....
And yet, I still wonder about whether I would survive--if my family and friends would be grilling on the 4th or wrapping presents in December as if the end had no suddenly fallen upon the world. I cannot imagine a world without them, but arguably when the shambling dead will inherit the earth, they not share it with their heart-beating neighbors.
What is this dark obsession slithering through our minds, worming its way so far into our souls, it seems virtually impossible to dislodge the sharp claws of morbidity? Perhaps, the real reason revolves around a distinct lack of a dangerous existence. For one who knows little "true" horror in her own life, does the dissolution of civilization burn so bright in order to combat a vague sense of boredom? How banal of me to put my own twisted entertainment before the betterment of my loved ones. In truth though, this is not me. For some, I am sure (as I do believe in evil), their desire for the most atrocious fulfillment does supercede any consideration for their fellow human beings.
Zombies as cathartic represents another reason the undead industry has expanded as most horror literature. The fantastic Mr. King argues horror films in particular (though I contend we can apply his claim to literature, too) possess the ability to feed our darker urges so that they do not bubble up to the surface and cause us to devolve into raving and sometimes violent creepies.
Other than throwing a few bones at my ravenous inner demons, I have to say I am particularly interested in underdogs, rebuilding, and hope rather than the destruction and devastation necessary to birth these more "heroic" concepts. I obviously use the term heroic cautiously as I am not unaware of the terrible origination process which brings these events forth. I pour over zombie book after zombie book for hope--to see humanity survive the enemies gnawing from within as well as on our edible epidermis. In our less than flesh hungry world, it seems most are content to stagnate. We complain, protest, and mean so well, and yet where are we thriving? Where are we truly building? Take us to the stars, to the deep, somewhere. Renewal is essential to life and yet we recycle old ways and old thoughts. Originality is not dead--I think it is simply in hiding.
So why do I pour over those books? those blogs? those tweets? I'm begging you authors for your insight, for your dreams or construction, of innovation. Call us to be better people and perhaps if the zombies do come, we will surprise you.
