Zombie
			
			by MURAKAMI Haruki
			Translated by Kiki
			
			
			
			
			A man and a woman are walking along a street. The street is next to 
			a cemetery. It is late on a foggy night. They didn’t choose to be 
			walking here so late. However a number of things happened and they 
			have been left with little choice. They are tightly holding each 
			other’s hands. They are walking quickly. “I feel like I’m in a 
			Michael Jackson video,” the woman said. 
			
			“Hey, that tombstone is moving,” the man says. They hear the creek 
			of something heavy, as though it were being dragged. They stop 
			walking and look at each other.The man laughs. “It’s ok. There’s 
			nothing to be nervous about. It is just the rubbing of a branch. 
			Probably just the wind or something.”
			
			But the wind isn’t blowing. Holding her breath the woman looks 
			around. She has a really bad feeling. She senses that something evil 
			is going to happen. A premonition.
			
			ZOMBIES!
			
			But there is nothing to see. There is no sign of corpses returning 
			to life. They start to walk again. The man suddenly grimaces.
			
			“Why do you walk like that? You have a really strange walk,” he 
			said.
			
			“Hmm.” She says, surprised. “Is my walk really so strange?”
			
			“Yes it is. You look terrible,” he says.
			
			“Really?”
			
			“You’re practically bowlegged.”
			
			The woman bites her lip. Maybe I do walk that way she thinks. It’s 
			true that my heels don’t wear evenly. It can’t be that bad, can it? 
			I just wish he weren’t so blunt.
			
			But she doesn’t say anything. She loves the man. And he loves her. 
			They are getting married next month. She doesn’t want to start a big 
			fight. Maybe she is a bit bowlegged. What’s the big deal?
			
			“I’ve never dated a bowlegged woman before.”
			
			“Really?” the woman says, laughing. Have they been drinking? No, it 
			appears that they haven’t had anything to drink today. 
			
			“And what’s more, inside your ear you have three moles,” the man 
			says.
			
			“What?” the woman asks. “Which ear?”
			
			“In the right ear. There are three moles, really nasty, gross ones.”
			
			“You don’t like moles?”
			
			“I hate such gross moles. Who in the world could like such gross 
			things?”
			
			She bites down hard on her lip.
			
			“And sometimes you have b.o.,” he continues. “I noticed it from the 
			beginning. If I had met you in the summer, I don’t think I would’ve 
			gone out with you.”
			
			The woman sighs and drops his hand. “Wait a minute. That’s a 
			terrible thing to say. Why are you talking to me like this?”
			
			“The collar of your blouse is dirty too. On that blouse that you are 
			wearing today. Why are you so sloppy? Why can’t you do anything 
			right?”
			
			The woman says nothing. She is too angry to speak. 
			
			“I have a mountain of things I want to say to you. Bowlegged, b.o., 
			dirty collar, moles in your ear. And I’m just getting started. Let’s 
			see what else. Those earrings look shitty on you. They don’t fit you 
			at all. They make you look like a cheap whore. They would look 
			better on a hooker. If you want to wear such earrings, why don’t you 
			wear them in your nose instead? They match your double chin. That 
			reminds me of your mother. She’s really a pig. Oink oink. In twenty 
			years that’s what you’ll look like. She really gobbles up her food. 
			Like a sow. And your father, god is he strange! He can’t even write 
			kanji. He sent my parents a letter the other day and they just 
			laughed at it. Didn’t he even go to elementary school? What a shitty 
			family! A cultural slum! Why don’t we just set fire to them? They 
			might burn well because of all the fat.” 
			
			“If all of these things bother you so much, why are you going to 
			marry me?”
			
			He ignores her question.
			
			“You’re a pig,” he says. “And about your cunt. It’s incredibly 
			awful. It’s like some cheap rubber thing, all stretched out and 
			useless. Why don’t you just die? If I were a woman I’d die from 
			embarrassment. Any kind of death would be welcome. I wouldn’t care. 
			Living under such circumstances would be damn embarrassing.”
			
			Astonished, she stands up. “”How dare you!”
			
			Suddenly the man grabs his head. In agony he leans forward and tilts 
			his head. Crouching, he starts to tears at his face with his 
			fingernails.
			
			“Man, my head hurts,” he says. “It feels like it’s being ripped in 
			half! I can’t stand it. The pain is unbearable.”
			
			“Are you ok?” she asks. 
			
			“No, I’m not. I can’t stand it. My skin is burning up. It feels like 
			I’m on fire.” She touches his head. It does feel like it’s on fire. 
			She begins to rub his head, and a chunk of skin drops off. Loose 
			slimy red flesh appears. The woman holds her breath and jumps back. 
			The man stands up and laughs. With his own hand he starts tearing 
			the skin from his face. His eyeballs hang out of their sockets. His 
			nose now has two deep holes. His lips have disappeared. His teeth 
			are protruding like fangs. These teeth are laughing.
			
			“I’m with you because you are a pig. I’m here to eat your pig flesh. 
			Could there be any other reason to be with you? You’re such so 
			stupid. You are such a dumb bitch. Ha ha ha.!”
			
			The slimy mass of flesh starts to chase her. She tries to escape, 
			but she can’t get away from this hunk of flesh. At the edge of the 
			cemetery its wet slimy hand grabs her by the collar. She screams.
			
			
			
			
			The man is holding her close. The woman’s throat is dry. The man 
			looks at her and smiles, “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”
			
			Sitting up, the woman looks around. They are lying in bed in a hotel 
			room by a lake. She shakes her head.
			
			“Did I scream?”
			
			“Yes, loud enough to wake the dead.” he says, laughing. “I’ll bet 
			everybody in the hotel could hear you. They probably thought you 
			were being murdered.”
			
			“Sorry,” she mutters.
			
			“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her. “A nightmare?”
			
			“An unbelievably bad nightmare.”
			
			“You want to talk about it?”
			
			“No, not really,” she says.
			
			“You might feel better if you talk about it. It might ease the 
			shock.”
			
			“That’s ok, thanks anyway. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
			
			They remain quiet for a few minutes. She clings to his body. She can 
			feel his heartbeat. In the distance she can hear the croak of a 
			frog.
			
			“Say, “she says quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
			
			“Sure, what?”
			
			“By any chance do I have a mole in my ear?”
			
			“A mole?” he says. “Do you mean, by any chance, that gross, nasty 
			mole in the middle of your right ear? ”
			
			She closes her eyes and realizes that it has just begun.