The Amiable Art of Necromancy
[Excerpt from Cherish Hollow's The Amiable Art of Necromancy] It's a lonely, lonely world for a young woman in the modern culture of necromancy. She chafes against the shibboleth. Who needs necromancy? What could such a gross thing possibly be for? These questions are very valid. I hope my answer satisfies. Necromancy is a social magic. I have a zombie (Mister Nascent Owens) under my thrall. Now he remembers absolutely nothing of his past life. He only knows this new one I've given him. He derives a large amount of pleasure from, say, getting me tea, administering a stinky but relaxing backrub, or eating the brains of my enemies. The spiritual implications are pretty profound here, right? Here's a husk imbued with purpose, given a direction, made useful in the most economic sense, and happy in the metaphysical sense. So who needs necromancy? We who demand a chance to challenge the whole 'death' thing, because we're weird, and lonely, and we like having friends as much as anyone...