Indomitables: Dane

My First Revival

"Here Lies Danger (Dane) James, the Man Who Heard Everything" was chiseled in large face letters on the ornate marble slab standing at the head of a recently filled hole, the dirt of which still discolored from not having enough time to settle. Around this plot of land stood many people dressed in all black, each with a dark aura of remorse, regret, and a touch of death. Simultaneously, they each laid a black rose on the bottom of the slab, then began their dismissal, dispersing into their own directions, leaving the grave and the rest of the graveyard to rest. A white-bearded man with a long, white robe arrived afterward and stood at the foot of the grave. With a wave of his hand, all of the black roses turned white and planted themselves into the grave. "It is not your time, Danger. Rest comes to those whose work is done. You have not earned this virtue yet. Come, Dane. There is still work to be done." The old man said, turning away and leaving just as suddenly as he entered. As he closed the front gate behind him, he pointed at the marble gravestone, it shaking at his finger, as though it were itself scared of him. He molded his pointed finger into a finger gun by extending his thumb and pointing his hand upright. Then, no sooner than he pretended to fire upon the stone, it burst into shards, none of which were any larger than a golf ball. He turned away, unaffected by this sudden explosion of rubble, and looked to the dreary, dark, cloudy sky, a single beam of light splitting a hole in the clouds. This light shone down upon the ground just at his toes. He walked into the light, raising his feet and planting them as if he were walking on stairs, and so he did, until he was through the hole in the sky. Once he was cleared, the hole sealed itself as though Phil Swift himself slapped some Flex-Tape on the hole. The clouds shook, thundered, and poured, sending millions of drop-sized pools towards the hard ground below. The intensity of the rain grew, raining hail-sized drops of rain, as opposed to the light drizzle that usually blanketed the world. Then, the clouds directly over James's plot condensed, dropping a bathtub's worth of water directly on the plot, leaving not a drop anywhere else. The water splashed the dirt, dissolving the top layer completely. Only a thin layer of sediment remained on the coffin, a layer that would soon be evaporated by a single bolt of lightning. Now, only the coffin remained in the hole by the broken tombstone. The coffin shook furiously, more like an electric toothbrush than a zombie shaking his coffin. Suddenly, the lid of the deathbed was thrust off, flying into a nearby house's window. A single five-fingered hand gripped the edge of the coffin. Underneath his fingernails lied a symbol, the same under each, of 12 infinity 8's linked together to form a circle-like polygon.