The Zombie Who Talked Too Much by Ace Antonio Hall

THE ZOMBIE WHO TALKED TOO MUCH part 1

A Sylva Slasher Story by Ace Antonio Hall

A zombie boy sat in the witness stand playing with a snow globe, while the lawyers and their clients settled in their seats. I spent most of the past night studying for a twelfth-grade necromancy test that I took that morning, and truly wasn’t in the mood for a trial. I raised a thirteen-year-old kid named Billy Hale, from the grave in a quick ceremony after school to testify for his own murder. Honestly, it’s something I’ve done a kazillion times, but I was hella-tired and due for a date with my Hello Kitty covers cuddling me as I slept in its warm embrace.

Judge Kichida, whose hair and mustache was as white as rice, tapped his gavel repeatedly. “Sylva Fleischer, please step forward.”

I sighed inwardly, and traded a hopeful smile with Mom. She rubbed my shoulder with her warm soft hand, and then pat it gently. “Go on, sleepyhead,” she said. “You’ll be in your bed in no time.”

My Converses, screeched when I got up, and walked passed a frail little man in thick rimmed glasses. His long crooked fingers rested on an ancient-looking stenotype machine as he waited to type up the court’s proceedings. I nodded hello to him, and went over to the witness stand. Totally brain-dead about having this pre-trial when I got ready for school this morning, I totally forgot to wear something more conservative, and wore a black tee shirt that said BIKINI SAMARAI SQUAD in purple letters, blue jeans, and my usual black sneaks.

So embarrassing.

At least, my hair was in a neat ponytail, and the little makeup I wore looked cool, but I tried to hide my chipped blue nails from the young cute bailiff, standing by the side door, as much as possible.

“This is a preliminary hearing,” Judge Kichida said. “What happens today determines if this case goes to trial, or not. Do you understand, young lady?”

Nodding, I cleared my throat. “Yes, your Honor.”

Billy Hale was dressed in his favorite outfit: a spotless baseball uniform he pitched his first no-hitter in, only the day before he died. The navy blue and white striped uniform was the youth club replica of the New York Yankees. His baseball cap sat on his head with a little tilt, just the way his sister said he liked to wear it.

According to his mother, he was very shy, and never said much to anyone, except his father, which seemed a bit ironic.

I took the globe out of the little deadhead’s hand, and whispered to him. “Pay attention, Billy.”

Pointing to the judge, I waited for him to gaze at Judge Kichida, and when he finally did, hid the globe behind my back so that he wouldn’t get too distracted. Billy, unimpressed with the judge’s sky blue eyes, curly white hair, and black judicial robe, turned around, and squirmed in his seat searching for the globe.

End of Part 1