I hear some'ting. Me want out, Heinrich voices in my mind.
The only thing he can hear in his coffin is our thoughts. Since we've been buried six feet under he has been trying to speak to the boss, but the boss is dead. I tried talking in his mind too, but it's like speaking into the phone when the line is dead.
He's not in there anymore. His body is, but his soul is somewhere else -- in hell.
It's hard to scream out loud when our skin is thinning at an alarming rate as our bodies begin to decay. For the first few days, Heinrich decided to scream in my mind. Then he resorted to whimpering when he thought the boss was still ignoring him. It's been a month now so I'd hope he would give up after getting no response. He still hasn't.
The high council didn't know about my blood block. Basically, it allows me to conserve my blood in certain areas of my body where it's needed most. It's an old practiced tradition that many newborns don't know about. It's the only reason Heinrich's soul is still intact too. He's much older than me, but so is the boss. I thought he would have known about the little trick too.
I told you to shut up, I retort.
I did do some things in the cemetery early on right when I joined the police force. It was for my own sake. It's nice when everything falls into place like this. Heinrich's blood will thin out soon and then he'll be dead forever down here. I get to walk free, soon as another soul steps over my grave. I built a trigger on it with my craft.
Once it's stepped on, my soul will swap with whoever steps into my carefully formed crafted calling circle. Then I'll have a new vessel and be able to eventually dig my body out if I wanted. I could use my magic then and heal my body. Or I could just stay in my new found one. That'd be the best way to go. Less risky than drawing attention digging up my casket just to fix up my decaying corpse.
No I hear, I do. I hear humming. Jackhammer and shouting. I t'ink they do construction now, he tells me.
I do too, I reply with surprise.
It a very quiet noise, but I think it's there. I wonder if his coffin is a little higher up than mine? If he really does hear people doing construction than someone's bound to-
"What the hell?" I whisper-yell.
I lean over, bent facing the ground as I catch my breath after having the wind knocked out of me. These black leather shoes aren't mine, but they feel like they fit. I laugh like a nut looking up at the night sky. I'm alive! This body doesn't even seem much different than my old one.
There's a bunch of work lights lined up against the cemetery wall. On the other side, are two work trucks. A few humans are dismantling the rock wall of the cemetery. They have a pile of fenced post behind them and bags of cement powder. Something buzzes in my pocket and I quickly pull out the phone.
"Valerie," I say out loud reading the name of the caller.
Someone taps my shoulder. A short, thin elderly woman. Her skin is caked in makeup and her hazel eyes must have cataracts because they've got that cloudy shine in them a lot of old people have in their eyes. She's wearing an ugly brown pantsuit that looks three sizes too small.
Her raisin face scrunches up in annoyance. She snaps her wrinkly fingers in front of my face with a deep frown. "Tommy! You promised you drived me back to the city today-" However, her little form crumples over before she can finish.
Some of the workers pause and look over at us. Perfect, just perfect.
"Does she need an ambulance?" one of the older fellas asks.
YOU ARE READING
Watch of the WickedFantasy
Welcome to Wixton, Alabama -- where the dead don't stay dead for very long. After an old face returns, Valerie Parway's secrets will be exposed and she will be forced to pick sides. Oddly enough, the devil has offered Valerie a reprieve for her and...