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So the amazing and wonderful is hosting a contest: Design your own Evil Zombie of DOOM!!!! So I just had to do one. I mean, c'mon, it's got DOOM in the title. What more do I need?!

So this is me zombie gal, Stitch. If anything's uneven, my cop-out is that it's because she stitched herself together so much that she's not sure anymore of what's hers or what's someone else's, and has stopped bothering to check if everything's even and still whole.

I thought about putting this in the Macabre category, but I figured since she ain't bleedin' or being all super-scary "Graaaaagh, I be zombie of DOOM. Me eatin' yer brainz nowz" that fantasy should be fine. >.> ......Right?

So here's my contest entry. And here is her story:

Not much is known about Stitch. Not even her first name. She just sort of showed up one day, refusing to tell us anything other than "Call me 'Stitch.' Do you have a place where I can stay?" She doesn't really smile (probably because of the huge stitches running along her face), or make any other expression other than the sort of vacant stare she wears here. Of course, now we know why.... she's dead. In the beginning when she came to us she had far fewer scars. We simply thought she was a quiet girl with a bad past and had gone through a slightly sloppy operation. She seemed to walk a little stiffly, but we attributed that to exhaustion. Then, a few days later, we realized the truth... after Horst blew her up by mistake and she simply grabbed all the pieces and stitched herself back together. o_o But we have learned. We keep quiet and let her do her dark deeds, whatever they may be, without asking questions. We let her stay because she needs nothing but a place to sleep, and because we are afraid. The last person who tried to tell her she was dead and that she should leave and hie to her final resting place demonstrated for us just how good she really was at hand-to-hand, then hand-to-shovel, then hand-to-hammer, then hand-to-axe combat (as did the four other men who tried to help him). We villagers live in constant fear of angering her, and we dare not question her motives for fear of another massacre.

On the plus, Mother hasn't come to visit in YEARS!

Description
So the amazing and wonderful is hosting a contest: Design your own Evil Zombie of DOOM!!!! So I just had to do one. I mean, c'mon, it's got DOOM in the title. What more do I need?!

So this is me zombie gal, Stitch. If anything's uneven, my cop-out is that it's because she stitched herself together so much that she's not sure anymore of what's hers or what's someone else's, and has stopped bothering to check if everything's even and still whole.

I thought about putting this in the Macabre category, but I figured since she ain't bleedin' or being all super-scary "Graaaaagh, I be zombie of DOOM. Me eatin' yer brainz nowz" that fantasy should be fine. >.> ......Right?

So here's my contest entry. And here is her story:

Not much is known about Stitch. Not even her first name. She just sort of showed up one day, refusing to tell us anything other than "Call me 'Stitch.' Do you have a place where I can stay?" She doesn't really smile (probably because of the huge stitches running along her face), or make any other expression other than the sort of vacant stare she wears here. Of course, now we know why.... she's dead. In the beginning when she came to us she had far fewer scars. We simply thought she was a quiet girl with a bad past and had gone through a slightly sloppy operation. She seemed to walk a little stiffly, but we attributed that to exhaustion. Then, a few days later, we realized the truth... after Horst blew her up by mistake and she simply grabbed all the pieces and stitched herself back together. o_o But we have learned. We keep quiet and let her do her dark deeds, whatever they may be, without asking questions. We let her stay because she needs nothing but a place to sleep, and because we are afraid. The last person who tried to tell her she was dead and that she should leave and hie to her final resting place demonstrated for us just how good she really was at hand-to-hand, then hand-to-shovel, then hand-to-hammer, then hand-to-axe combat (as did the four other men who tried to help him). We villagers live in constant fear of angering her, and we dare not question her motives for fear of another massacre.

On the plus, Mother hasn't come to visit in YEARS!