On the Origin of The Zombie
Zombies, when good things happen with bad timing.
I think most of the legends of the undead fall into this realm. Back in tha' day (pre 1500) It was pretty hard to tell sometimes when a person was really dead. There werent a lot of doctors to speak of, the mortician was more likely a carpenter than a scientist. The barber was in charge of a lot of medical crap as well. These people basically gathered round like three rednecks peering under the hood of a broken jeep going "Yep.. Shore looks dead.. Hyuk."
In fact it was common enough for 'dead' people to come back that there are a few rituals based on this. A wake, for example, is designed to be one last helluva noise to spur Corpsey McCorpserson back into action. They used to install small bells in tombstones and have a string leading down to the coffin, so the occupant could ring it if they awoke: hence the expression "saved by the bell".
Most likely zombies came about for two reasons, one was stories of weirdass rituals being practiced in the carribean islands, as boats going back and forth from there to Europe became possible. These stories became folk tales of derring do, told by sailors and repeated by story tellers everywhere as they were the LOTR of thier day. The second is the Plague, which killed so many people they started burying them in shallow mass graves. Because the plaugue is slow and excruciating, as well as coming with a high fever, passing out and comas were more common than usual. Heat fever also nukes a good portion of fine motor control and speech. So Uncle Bob would wake up after being buried for a few days, at night because the cold has shocked him into revival, and claw his way through rotting corpses, decomposing soil and muck. His skin is falling off his body because his lymph nodes have gone crazy and popped, covering him in pus, blood and black goo. His hair is falling out, and his frontal lobe and bits of his cerebral cortex are destroyed by fever, so he pretty much has to drag one leg and his arm flops around as he goes.
Now the grave is close to town, because they havent completely figured out germs yet, and no-one wants to drag each of a thousand corpses eight miles out into the boonies. Uncle Bob sees familiar territory and starts to drag his ass home. He is spotted immediately, and since wild superstition and tales of the devil (not in the least embellished out the yang by story tellers) are at an all time high, Uncle Bob must have been raised by evil spirits, eaten corpses to survive and is back to wreak vengance upon the living. They cant get to close, because Uncle Bob had the plague, and no one wants that shit. So they pop an arrow or two into him, but Uncle Bob has had most of his nerves decayed by the plague, and is probably in such agony an arrow or two makes little difference.
He keeps coming. Somebody gets the bright idea to either take his head with a sword, or plock a few fire arrows into his chest. They immediately set the corpse on fire, cuz it cleanses the evil spirits, naturally, and Uncle Bob writhes in agony until he is finally down for the count. Wash, rinse repeat a few hundred times in different settlements all over Europe, reinforce with new and fantastic voodoo tales from the Carribean, and bundle it all up in the embellished story telling that passed for legitimate knowledge back in the Dark Ages, and you've got yourself the birth of the modern day Zombie.
I think most of the legends of the undead fall into this realm. Back in tha' day (pre 1500) It was pretty hard to tell sometimes when a person was really dead. There werent a lot of doctors to speak of, the mortician was more likely a carpenter than a scientist. The barber was in charge of a lot of medical crap as well. These people basically gathered round like three rednecks peering under the hood of a broken jeep going "Yep.. Shore looks dead.. Hyuk."
In fact it was common enough for 'dead' people to come back that there are a few rituals based on this. A wake, for example, is designed to be one last helluva noise to spur Corpsey McCorpserson back into action. They used to install small bells in tombstones and have a string leading down to the coffin, so the occupant could ring it if they awoke: hence the expression "saved by the bell".
Most likely zombies came about for two reasons, one was stories of weirdass rituals being practiced in the carribean islands, as boats going back and forth from there to Europe became possible. These stories became folk tales of derring do, told by sailors and repeated by story tellers everywhere as they were the LOTR of thier day. The second is the Plague, which killed so many people they started burying them in shallow mass graves. Because the plaugue is slow and excruciating, as well as coming with a high fever, passing out and comas were more common than usual. Heat fever also nukes a good portion of fine motor control and speech. So Uncle Bob would wake up after being buried for a few days, at night because the cold has shocked him into revival, and claw his way through rotting corpses, decomposing soil and muck. His skin is falling off his body because his lymph nodes have gone crazy and popped, covering him in pus, blood and black goo. His hair is falling out, and his frontal lobe and bits of his cerebral cortex are destroyed by fever, so he pretty much has to drag one leg and his arm flops around as he goes.
Now the grave is close to town, because they havent completely figured out germs yet, and no-one wants to drag each of a thousand corpses eight miles out into the boonies. Uncle Bob sees familiar territory and starts to drag his ass home. He is spotted immediately, and since wild superstition and tales of the devil (not in the least embellished out the yang by story tellers) are at an all time high, Uncle Bob must have been raised by evil spirits, eaten corpses to survive and is back to wreak vengance upon the living. They cant get to close, because Uncle Bob had the plague, and no one wants that shit. So they pop an arrow or two into him, but Uncle Bob has had most of his nerves decayed by the plague, and is probably in such agony an arrow or two makes little difference.
He keeps coming. Somebody gets the bright idea to either take his head with a sword, or plock a few fire arrows into his chest. They immediately set the corpse on fire, cuz it cleanses the evil spirits, naturally, and Uncle Bob writhes in agony until he is finally down for the count. Wash, rinse repeat a few hundred times in different settlements all over Europe, reinforce with new and fantastic voodoo tales from the Carribean, and bundle it all up in the embellished story telling that passed for legitimate knowledge back in the Dark Ages, and you've got yourself the birth of the modern day Zombie.
posted by The Messenger | Wednesday, May 26, 2004
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