What’s in a name? (short story almost 500 words)

nameless_one_by_grosnus-d4xufm4

Art By: Grosnus depiction of The Nameless One

Death comes daily but without banishment. The streets are overrun with cadavers. Man has achieved immortality but it is not the blessing vacuously conceived.

*

Slayer of the Undead” “Scythe Wielder” “Mercenary of Charon” “Sweeper” Titles coined but not carried. The official name of my faction is “The Immaculate”. To join one must be alive and genetically unmodified. As the aforementioned names crudely indicate I am or at least I was a Reaper.

*

My faction refers to the Undead as “Deadseed” for their inability to reproduce viable offspring. Every child born of a Deadseed is born without sentience or the capacity for animation. Proof that their kind is not meant to exist. “Mods”  “Godseed” “Immortals” “Children of Methuselah” “Axolotl” names affectionately forged by the populace, the majority of which are genetically altered.

*

Even for the so-called Immortals a day will come when nothing saveable remains of their minds. Lunatics prowl the streets feasting on offal, nameless, and abhorred. Crematoriums run nightly that bodies might be conveniently “lost”. To dispose of an Immortal one has to destroy the shell entirely. I fed the furnace with my riotousness, my grey robes reeked of soot and burnt flesh. To my faction I was a hero. To the government I was a silencer and unbeknownst to the denizens I was a truth-slayer. Most people believe the demented street-dwelling Zombies to be a different and inferior version of man. I disposed of the bodies, the government of all traceable record. Brain-washing is common practice, humanity remains largely ignorant of consequence.

*

In the beginning I killed only the deranged corpses festering in the alleys without name or consignment but that any Deadseed should exist was to me unthinkable. I began eliminating wives, husbands, brothers, sisters high-functioning members of society. I became a murderer and a messiah simultaneously. I was doing God’s work or so I believed. I drew the wrath of both the denizens and the government and drove my faction to fanaticism.

*

The day I died was the day I became a hypocrite. My body awakened of its own accord, I was not of pure blood and by my own standards no longer human. Had I truly been a messiah I would have marched my sentient carcass to the Crematorium but my brush with death had put the fear in me. I didn’t want to be erased so I hid and so I remain hiding my brethren beating down the walls of my heart. “Judas” “Blasphemer” “Abomination”. How is it that a corpse can know such pain? 

*

I wrote you a short-story influenced by Planescape Torment which I’ve been playing. Written with extreme haste in the early morning so I apologize for any mistakes!

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