“I have thought this for some time now. And I am confident that you will not be able to enable the heart in my chest. You will not sway me. Even should you reach out your skin-less hand and manually pump its beat, it will not last. For too much time has passed.” Her words fell on seemingly deaf ears, or rather, non-existent ones. For the flesh had long ago decayed from where they once had existed. Bones that were so pitted as to hold the color of dulled mercury. And the undead being stared at the girl, hollow skulled, sockets unblinking.
A flickering lone light, with a frayed string for a switch, illuminated the small room as it hung fastened to the ceiling. Worn shoes littered the floor. Clothing draped upon old metal hangers coated in dust and rot. Garments that held nothing of value for their former wearers, yet still acted as food for the moths. There were boxes stacked about whose contents held things of the past. Years were written along the sides, ordaining them with swift black sharpie. The undead thing reached down and pulled the top from one of the boxes; revealing a small black tablet inside; the kind that school children used in combination with chalk.