Confessions of a Corpse

Chapter 2 - Awake and alive

...

I opened my eyes to see the vaulted ceiling of Markipler Manor staring back at me. I slowly, painfully slowly shifted to sit up, then glanced over at a chair that hadn't been there before. The Colonel was sitting in it, staring at me with wide eyes. I moved to scramble away from him - I didn't want to get shot again - but he held up his hands in surrender.

"Oh! No, no! It's okay. I-I thought you were dead," he said, sputtering. "I-I-I mean, of course you're not dead! How could you be dead? I-I-I wouldn't have killed you. I-I didn't kill you. I mean, of course... I-I..." I shifted to stand completely and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him as sympathetic of a smile as I could. He looked up at me, looking to be on the verge of tears, then smiled.

"Of course. I didn't kill anybody. It was all a joke! Of course, it's all a joke! Were you in on this?" He asked, looking around a bit. "Did Damien put you up to this? Of course he did! Damien, where are you, you rapscallion? Where are you? Celine? Ah, sun, come out now! It was good, it was good! You almost had me! Ha! Ha-ha! Celine?" He had stumbled off deeper into the manor at this point. I wiped my eyes, feeling the sting of tears. I knew he had lost it. I knew that I had just inadvertently driven Damien's closest friend into madness. All because I, a corpse, got up and started moving. I glanced down at Damien's cane, which was laying on the ground near the chair, reached down, and grabbed it.

As soon as my hand closed around it, I felt something wrench control away from me. 

I wasn't moving my body anymore. 

Something else was. 

It wasn't Damien or Celine, either. 

It was something...darker. 

Helpless, all I could do was watch through my own eyes as I picked up the cane, examined it for a moment, then glanced at a mirror that was close by. I cracked my neck - wincing as I heard a couple of bones almost snap - and seemed to glare into the mirror. I suddenly realized that I was staring at myself. Not through my own eyes, though. Through the mirror. I placed my hands against the glass, my eyes wide in horror as the person on the other side morphed into the spitting image of Damien. They gave me a sinister smirk and walked away from the mirror.

I slammed my fists against the glass, cracking it, and screamed as much as I could in enraged terror, my voice sounding like a banshee's mournful cry.

What had I done?!