Spring has sprung and it's the Easter season. (Yeah, yeah, it was in March, but just go with it, eh?) This month's drabble challenge is THE UNDEAD. Give me a 100 word prose story, using standard English and punctuation, that tells a tale of the restless dead, arisen from their eternal slumber. Zombies, Vampires, Wights, Revanants, you pick it. I'll pick the winner sometime around the first of May.

Dear Eliza

Dear Eliza,

It has been a week since the accident. For all my talk of being a genius, I seem to have pricked myself with a needle. Ridiculous way to die, I know. Can anyone say that they've felt this, that they've felt their life come to a close in an instant? Every antidote is just a small dose of poison, a variation of it. What do you think happens when you miscalculate it, even by a little? The very thing that was meant to save us all could become our undoing.

I'm going to turn green soon.

- John