Scent Notes: Deep citrus, murky bergamot, unexpected floral, humid vanilla embrace of the bog, thick air and birch.

This was Day 5 in our Halloween Advent Calendar.

Sandra had been job hunting for over 6 months now. She'd even landed a few, but none were a great fit. The accounting firm didn't like the way her mucus sloughed off onto the papers sometimes, and the coffee shop was nice but the manager said her pace was too slow on account of the way she sort of lumbered around with her arms out, dragging her feet. 

It just wasn't easy being a zombie in the 21st Century, especially not a financially independent Girl Boss zombie with a career. She tried a position as a lifeguard, and while the work wasn't so bad, the sun dried her out like a raisin. Finally she found a job at a punk goth bar where the employees were decked out in all sorts of costumes, accessories and eyeliner, but she got too many complaints of "trying too hard to look the part," and they let her go. 

Dejected, she took a walk past the cemetery and into the Town Bog. She hadn't spent much time here, but she liked the way it smelled and the cool fog felt nice on her thin skin. As she passed the Bog Keeper's cabin, she noticed a paper nailed into the wood. "BOG DWELLER WANTED. $46/hr starting wage. Must be capable of holding breath and staying disturbingly still underwater for several hours at a time." Her one good eye widened. I don't even breathe, she thought. She pulled her phone out and dialed the number, and she heard a phone ring just on the other side of the door. An old man answered. 

An hour later she had signed all of the paperwork and went to look for a place to settle into for the day. It turns out "Bog Dweller" was exactly what it sounded like, and her only responsibilities were to "freak out people who visit the bog by looking kinda dead." This was literally a zombie dream job. "It's great for the tourists," her new boss had said. She wandered around and found a sweet little pool that smelled spicy and rich with plants growing all around and trees looming above. Little blossoms poked up around the edge and she smiled as she lowered herself into the water and found a comfortable position to hold very still. It was peaceful. No one around to tell her she was doing it wrong. 

As the hours passed, bog visitors came and went. Most got nervous and walked away quickly, but every once in a while she would hear someone say, "It's not real, it's just a prop," and she would wait until they put their face close to the water, or tried to touch her, and she would give a nice hard jerk upwards and they would freak out and run away screaming. This was hilarious to her and she had to take a second to chuckle before she settled back in. After work she showered and settled into the couch in her apartment. Today was awesome. This was absolutely the career for her. Turns out there's a place for me in the 21st Century after all.