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Resurrection

By Kater_Schiller All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Poetry

Resurrection

The stale air around me grew cold,

colder, until it reached approximately

fifty-two degrees, give or take.

I have been laying still,

for what seems an eternity.

I can’t move.

Couldn’t if I wanted to.

Silence and pitch darkness,

my only companions, save…

What is this?  The walls, floor, ceiling –

all tremble as if it were

in the hands of a great giant.

I froze, though my natural state, now in terror!

The shaking and scraping interminable

Silence! my compatriot where have you gone?

Why have you fled before this scraping monstrosity?

My cranial nerves burned, but the rest froze

as my panic grew.

Presently the scraping ceased,

but it was a temporary relief for

it was replaced by a dull thud upon my abode,

like an iron knocker crashing into the

thick wooden doors of a voluminous stone castle.

The thuds were steady and seemed a waltz,

had I space and partner I may have been inclined

to dance.

From waltz my mind transformed it to time,

specifically the ticking of an ancient clock, its

pendulum swinging back and forth,

beheading the air with each pass –

moonlight cascaded into my home, outlining a

figure

pitch against a sweltering sky.

There were others behind him,

for I could distinctly hear them speak,

though the hushed tones and accents made it

impossible for me to understand.

A rope was passed amongst them,

one end fashioned like a noose,

which that looming figure before me

dropped

down

upon my

throat.


Once placed, he secured the noose with one quick tug,

nearly crushing my windpipe,

then with his compatriots,

slowly

drug me out

through the hole they had made

in my coffin, my home, and drew me

up through the hole they had dug.


I could not help but wonder how many

of those listed upon the stones were still

here, interred, not yet a gleaming coin

in the Ressurectionists’ eyes.


Corpses beware! lest you resurrect before

the Judgment.  Stuffed into crates and barrels,

shipped in shadow to the backdoor

of some surgical theatre, so that some youth

might know you as intimately as your Creator,

then discard you into the clay you once were.

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Trahelion: While I started this tale hoping for an actual Anthropophagi monster story, I was quickly reminded that humanity is by far the most frightening beast. The reason being, we're real and there is not much we haven't done.Great work here, and at the end, I was expecting the lady narrating to be lying...

Diane April: Really liked the concept of this story. The beginning had a great explanation about how things worked in the real world that people tend to overlook. It was a nice change from the usual zombie story that just makes things up as they go along and actual facts don't matter.

: This story was gripping and very professionally written. With lots of twists and slight of hand tricks, the author deceives the reader until finally showing their cards at the end. With several subplots all intertwining to create the main plot, this really is an interesting and engaging read.

Deleted User: This is a very clever story in the style of 19th century (and turn of the century) Gothic writing, very reminiscent of Stevenson's The Body Snatchers or even of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (less so of Frankenstein itself, since the author is more minimalist than Shelley's florid, Romantic rhetoric). ...

shadowmaven: At first, the word "Dagon" threw me, making me think that this was going to be a story based on one of Lovecraft's, and was pleasantly surprised--no, make that thrilled--when it wasn't (honestly, I like your mythos more). Your writing is so lyrical, deftly capturing this tiny village and the rela...

elssxa: I love everything about this story. I want more...more...more. This author is superb. I am fascinated by his amazing work. I give him five stars.

Kat Paul: I know you mentioned thinking of making this into the introductory chapter of a longer story... What you have so far definitely intrigues me! My favorite bit is the twist about poor Bergen giving the creature the inspiration for its identity. What would interest me the most in the rest of the s...

Tobi Doyle MacBrayne: I was so impressed with this piece. The slow degradation of the main character into a dark and crazy place is beautifully written. I liked that the characters physical descriptions were not described because it gave me a sense that it could be someone I know or love. The grief that breaks the m...

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