The Dead who do not Die

So cold. So dark. So full of mist.

The body will be here soon. It will come from the fog, the same way it left two days ago but this time it’s dead for sure. Not just half dead.

And I have to take care of it.

The tomb is made. A deep hole in rock. Not even this body will get away.

“You here for the body?” A deep echo in the dark.

“Yeah.” I say.

“Any more of you?”

“Just me.”

Two men have come. They hold the pine box with fear. Each hand pale with odd awe. Eyes flit from me to the box they hold.

“You can go now.” I say as they put it down. They just nod and then dash away with a wily peek back at me as they flee.

“So…” I sigh.

I feel a rash urge to lift the lid. No!

Then, a grim rasp. A rap on the firm wood.

Bang, bang, bang, bang

It’s just me. Just me with a body. A body that isn’t dead.

“Help.” I say. The one word that can’t do as it says. It can’t help.

Bang, bang, bang, bang

I try and push down on the lid but the body won’t give up. A tear runs over the wood.

Bang, bang, ba-

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