Humans, man. Here’s my lesson to impart: don’t confront a raging, zombie feeding racist asshole unarmed, because metaphysical protection you conjure yourself will do nothing for internal bleeding. I can still walk, but I probably shouldn’t. Joel, you still have my power of attorney. My safety deposit keys should be taped under my desk – [...]

Share on Facebook

Pete and the female ghost, who I’m calling Moll-Dolly since she won’t tell me her name, both confirmed I saw what I saw. This guy just grabbed another human being and shoved him headfirst into a zombie, held him by the neck while the zombie bit him. As far as I can tell, it’s because [...]

Share on Facebook

It’s really quiet on Wabasha, and I admit to “spotting” a lot of activity to avoid conversation with this jackass. I’m pretty sure the river slows most zombies down – the water confuses the smell or brain radar or something. I watched a few try to cross a bridge when Pete was alive; most couldn’t [...]

Share on Facebook

I hate this guy. He smells evil, and he proudly showed my his swastika tattoo. He said “That’s right, baby!” to my sarcastic “Seig heil.” Even the Cthulhoid god who hangs out in the back room isn’t evil, he just doesn’t give a damn because we all look vaguely like ants to him. With this [...]

Share on Facebook

There was a loud noise at the front of the cave, and there’s this guy looking to hide here. The ghosts don’t want to let him all, and I’m sure has hell not taking him to the back room. I’m not entirely thrilled – but it’s more shotguns, more ammo, and the coffeeshop at the [...]

Share on Facebook

This makes me almost cherish the time I spent boring myself out of my mind reading the cover to Tuesdays with Morrie. I realized I haven’t picked up my wand in two years until it just got shoved back into my hand by what I’m assuming is an especially strong ghost. I haven’t done a [...]

Share on Facebook

So that wasn’t a cheap conversion tactic. It was a password, sort of. I’m in the deepest recesses of the caves, so far back that usually only employees get in here. There’s this Irish guy, O’Banion, who’s asking me for the bathwater. What the hell does he mean, bathwater? The décor in here is very [...]

Share on Facebook

I always wanted to go on the Wabasha Caves haunted tour, but never had the right combination of money or time. It had not occurred to me that I could easily enjoy a tour, guided by those that haunt the caves. But here I am, stomach full of zombie and surrounded by ghosts. One of [...]

Share on Facebook

I’m huddled under the bridge that crosses Wabasha Street now, in view of the former Coca-Cola plant/Llewellyn Publishing building. I don’t know what was there, but I’m guessing it’s not good since I can see the large windows are almost all broken. Joel and I agreed to split: he thinks the world is better off [...]

Share on Facebook

We are on the bottom floor of a parking garage in Lowertown Saint Paul. Pete is insisting we stay there for now, although I can hear shuffling and moaning. I’m pretty sure the parking attendant went down first, although given the density of bars in this part of Saint Paul it could be a zombie [...]

Share on Facebook