Everyone craves some sort of definite control at least once in their lives. Whether it be over a course of events, over a person, or over something else- control is a difficult thing to live without wanting. But you have it.

The ability to reanimate corpses and control them. It has been both a blessing and a curse. Blessing, because of the power, because of the impossible things you could do- curse, because no one will ever love you because of it.

And so you lived your life lonely. A powerful, unique being, cast out by all those without an open mind. Everywhere you went, you faced the possibility of death, because of what you could do.

You grew bitter. Of course you did. Who wouldn't, after the life you had lived? That bitterness was pushed towards the thing that had caused the rejection in the first place. Reanimating the dead. Essentially, domestic zombification.

For the first time, you tried to do it on purpose. You badly needed someone to cure the loneliness, fill the hole in your chest.

It worked.

And so you stood in front of the newly living corpse, looking at his pallid complexion with the eyes of a person slowly dissolving into madness. You reached out a shaking hand, resting it against his cold undead cheek.

"I'll call you Frank," You murmured, a smile on your face. "You will be beautiful." The ex-corpse looks at you curiously, as though adjusting to being alive again.