It shocked them to realise that the dead carry on living in random pockets where they can still find comfort and smell our familiar scents. Life is a lethal drug...we were all running on the spot just about hanging on.
The voices in my head competed with those demanding my fevered delusions. I was deliciously in control. I was blithely powerful while the dream lasted. I fed those that I could with dirt from my finger nails. They seemed happy with that.