Gone Yet Living | A Short Story

i | Death

Two Years Ago. . .

We all watched as some men lowered the coffin to the deep ground being dug. There was a gloomy atmosphere around me. Many people wore black, a sign of complete sadness. It was indeed true for this day, especially for us.

Brian Cook died.

Nobody knew about his death. No one but us. It wasn't devastating. . . .it was mysterious.

I remembered that he disappeared a week ago. And after that week, when he never came back, we searched for him, only to find out that he was dead.

There had been a tugging sensation in me ever since. It was like my mind was trying to suggest something. Maybe the ghost caused this death too.

Four hundred thirty-three cases were reported in New York. Everyone knew about this ghost, its legend, and what it can do. They nicknamed it the Cult.

The sound of thunder interrupted my thoughts. Rain started pouring down on us as I pulled out my umbrella and placed it under my head. Minutes after it rained, the corpse of Brian was already covered by dirt. Some people began leaving the place.

It wasn't long until only five people remained. They only stared at the spot where the tomb stood. Then one of the five, who was wearing the same trench coat and hat and also was holding the same black umbrella, looked at me with his blue eyes as if to say, Good luck. Then he walked away.

The others followed, looking at each other before walking away. Now only I stayed.

Brian was a true friend. We all met five years ago. He was the jokester of the group, making sure that he will make our day. We went out together, but then after the death of Dr. Aidan, he was gone even before we said our goodbyes.

I will be back before we all go separate ways, he'd promised. But now he didn't come back at all.

As I was about to turn and walk away, I didn't feel sadness at all, I felt hope and the need of justice. I realized it was time.

It was time to stop the Cult. This was my last thing I would do. So I approached the tomb and placed my hand on the grass. Then I stood up satisfied.

"I promise you," I whispered as if he could hear me. "I will stop him."

The rain continued on without touching the mark of my flaming hand.