The Unusual Case of the Zombie and Magus

A outstretched palm holding a single copper coin presents itself before me.

“Hey.”

I had a paperback novel in my left hand, which I was pretending to read. As such, I didn’t look up.

“What?” I replied in monotone.

The hand gestured impatiently. “Penny for your thoughts.”

I paused my act and spared my companion a questionable look.

“Who does something that cliche in this day and age?”

“Who cares? Take the penny.”

My long time friend Taelyn "Twilight" Saito, sat across from me at a round table in the cafe of the Equestria University’s community building, a pen in one hand scribbling notes into one of her many notebooks, and a mug of raspberry tea in the other for her cramps. Well, I wasn’t supposed to know that, but when you're friends with someone for so long...

Oh, and Twilight's just a fun nickname she likes to be called, apparently what with her birth name relating to the stars and all that. She must think it's cute, so I play along with it.

Stacked top to bottom with plenty of trinket shops and restaurants like the one we both were sitting in, the bulk of the business conducted here was by student interns who wanted hands-on experience in the real world, if you could give a place like this such a label.

Presently, it was spring break. The cafe was situated on the second floor, where we had the best view - that is, the most obscured one. Many of the trees surrounding the building had just enough height to completely block our view of the campus from the windows, imposing a mass of branches and leaves against the glass. I didn’t mind - I called it the “best view” despite what most people would think because I found the sight of a vast view filtered by a canopy of calming green was somewhat relaxing.

Taelyn didn’t really care for sights anyways, so she was fine with my request to sit under the umbra of the fittingly in-season oak trees. However, she certainly was imposing in her own way.

“Give me a break, “ I sighed. However, I did take the the penny, my fingernails slightly grazing the surface of her palm as I did so.

I shoved it into my coat pocket and resumed “reading.”

“...And?”

“What?” I repeated, my eyes scanning the stoic font of the pages before me.

“Your thoughts. I payed a penny for them, didn’t I?”

I set the novel down and stared at her directly.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely, mind-blowingly unattractive you are.”

In retrospect, I should have followed up much quicker with my, “sorry, it was a joke,” than I did so as to avoid what happened next. Taelyn’s actually somewhat attractive face quickly contorted with anger as she gripped something tightly in her hands and threw it at me.

“You—!”

My wording just now was strange. Allow me to elaborate. I did avoid what happened next, but I wish I could have prevented it from occurring in the first place.

To Kill a Mocking Horse made a beeline for my face. I could have caught it, but that hardly would have been satisfying for her. I could have taken the hit — I wouldn't even feel any pain, but that would probably result in a lack of physical feedback and thus look jarring to her.

This event was unfolding within less than a second, but in my headspace, the book appeared to be spiraling towards me at a pace where it would make impact with the bridge of my nose in another ten seconds. I took this time to consider my options.

I decided to compromise and duck. The 1960 literary masterpiece hit the wall behind me, a violent rainbow shower of post-it notes flying out of the pages upon impact.

“How could you say something like that?!"

The ruckus caused a scene that made a few people at other tables stare. As much as I liked to poke and prod, I figured I should pick a better time and place. And perhaps a different topic as well.

“Sorry, it was a joke.”

The lavender-haired girl sighed, left her chair to collect the book and the post-it notes, and took her seat again.

“Al, with a serious face like yours... I can’t tell when you’re joking and when you’re not.”

“Oh,” I replied lamely. I felt like I should have apologized again, but what for, I wasn’t sure.

“Well, if you didn’t mean it, then I guess I’ll let it slide.”

She called me “Al.”

Technically, that wasn’t correct.

My name is Allen Hunter. Taelyn had just decided on her own that “Al” was a good nickname for me. I didn't think someone like her, who thought so highly of something like "Twilight" would come up with something so sensible for me.

It wasn’t the name given to me at birth, of course. It was my foster parents who took it upon themselves to give me a name that was befittingly normal for someone of my looks. At least, that was the most they were able to infer from what little I had - that is, no living relatives or any direct indication of my ethnicity. I have most features you’d find on any European male, so I suppose that’s something. I have to say, they didn’t do a bad job. After my “death”, it took all I could to remember how to walk and even talk properly, much less decide a name for my own being. In the vein of conversation referring to my non existent relatives, I did pursue my parents and my past life for a time, but it was an unforgiving, meaningless undertaking. By the time I had resolved to stop the search, my memory had already faded to obscurity.

“See? You’re doing it again.”

I realized I had been gazing out the window with glossy eyes when a soft, concern-filled voice jolted me back to reality.

“What?” I asked for the third time that day.

Taelyn sighed and addressed me pointedly.

“Pulling that long face of yours. You were cocky enough to kill a second ago, and now you look like a kitten that someone left on the side of the road in a box."

I didn’t understand. My looks must have said it, because she decided to continue, a strand of her lavender hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned in, her similarly colored eyes narrowed in concern and staring me down. As she came closer, every detail about her jumped out at me, my eyes absorbing them through the thin film of my contacts.

Her slender jaw line, the faint scar tracing the underside of her chin, the single pimple concealed beneath a thin layer of concealer on the left side of her face (which I’m sure she would not have been pleased to have me point out), the way her winter coat folded and creased along the outline of her thin frame.

The tea which she had been drinking moments before moistened her pink lips, the microscopic droplets of liquid reflecting the light of the lamps hanging above our table.

You’d think that a dead person wouldn’t have the most accurate pair of lookers, but if anything, I found that my “zombie vision” was quite perceptive, almost exaggerated to an extent; It made me wonder if something about being human withheld the function of our eyes, just like the limiters of the brain.

I was able to comprehend all of these details in a fraction of a moment, long before she opened her mouth to speak again.

“I’m saying that you look pitiful! Don’t you feel the same way about abandoned kittens?”

“Um.”

What exactly was I supposed to feel about abandoned kittens? I wasn’t following, but I at least knew that I should save the personal self-reflection for later, seeing as it was putting my companion in a fix. Not that I hated seeing her squirm a little.

“Sorry.”

Another exasperated sigh, and she sat back down. She clearly didn’t think I was being sincere.

“And so?” Taelyn had started tediously re-applying her post it notes back into her book. “Spring break is almost over. Are you done with all your coursework?”

My eyes firmly locked on my paperback, I replied lamely, “it’s coming along.”

“Well, aren’t you relaxed,” she pouted contemptuously, her mood only worsening by the tedious task keeping her hands busy. "Meanwhile I've got to put all of these back on their respective pages, and later I have to record them all digitally since apparently you need to take all your notes on a laptop these days, can you imagine what kind of professor would enforce a rule like that? I mean, I get that we live in an age of technology, but..."

The truth was, I had already finished all of my assignments. The very day they were assigned, that is. I really didn't see any point in putting them off. I did the bare minimum where it was needed and called it then.

However, with Taelyn being a natural perfectionist, she was struggling to tie up all her loose ends before the new term began, making sure to double and then triple check all her notes and readings, hence her grumbling. The pretense for our meeting today was for a “study session,” and as I had no need for such a thing, I decided to feign interest in an “educational” paperback novel for a course that I didn’t even take.

It was, of course, impractical. Irrational even. I had nothing to tangibly gain from this situation. So why, you might ask, would I commit myself to something as unfruitful as being in the presence of Taelyn Saito, even at the danger of being pelted with books?

That would be... that I wanted the company. Rather, I wanted Taelyn to keep me company. I wanted for her to be near me, and to be able to casually have a conversation over drinks.

Because despite our somewhat violent exchange, she was an important person to me.

My friend. My important friend who, nine years ago, saved me from a fate worse than death.

I say that figuratively of course.

A faint smile which I’m sure Taelyn could not have noticed tugged at the corners of my lips, because I couldn’t help the thought that came to me next.

How befittingly human of me.

“Well, I’m not getting any further today. How about you?”

“Yeah, I'll come back to this later." I pretended to yawn, not that I was tired in the least bit. However, I usually ran my body on "energy saving" during most of my waking hours in order to decrease the amount of vitality consumed in between feeding sessions. As such, I had a rather lethargic look to me, but this beat being an athletic monster and running around like crazy, risking exposure of my zombie nature all the while.

She giggled. “Someone sounds like they could use a nap."

I let a fake, easy grin come to my face. It was different from the impulsive smile I had moments earlier - after all, this one I practiced at least a dozen times a day before stepping out.

“Maybe,” I replied good-naturedly.