Neil died in his sleep. Now a ghost, it was time to do what was needed.

The door to his grandmother's bedroom had been fitted with a hasp and padlock. Neil's aunt and uncle were keeping something hidden in there. 

His parents had passed away together nearly five years earlier, trapped in a house fire. Grandma Nell and Neil had then moved in with Aunt Bea and Uncle Virgil in this tiny home.

Within a week, his grandmother died. Almost immediately the small room she had been in was secured with a charmed fastener.

No words were ever spoken, but he suspected the horrible secret kept under lock and key in that bedroom.

One moonlit night he decided he was going to know what was behind that door. Spiriting through the unprotected bedroom window, he found himself standing next to his Grandma Nell's padded rocking chair. In the chair, rotting and maggot laced, was her body.

"So, they didn't have the guts to burn you up like I did mom and dad," he said to the moist and putrid visage.

Opening what were eyes, but now better described as holes in a mud pie, the festering body of what was his grandmother attempted to rise from the moldy, cob-webbed chair. Her effort failed and as she sank back down, more flesh sloughed off her bones.

"I'm guessing Bea and Virgil have this zombie gene as well, Grandma, so I will let them sleep through this."

The house burned down completely.