She clawed her way out of a freshly dug grave to find that she has no memories. She has no hunger for the flesh, only a hunger for the truth. And soon she will have a hunger for vengeance.
A gentle breeze rustled through the grass as the fresh dirt began to part. The cemetery was empty save for a small field mouse moving erratically between the headstones. There was no one to see the topsoil tumble away, or the trembling fingers break free from their earthly prison. No one saw the corpse leave the grave, but she did. She gasped for air, spitting dirt from her wide open mouth. Panic was clear in every line of her face, her eyes wide to the moonlit night, reflecting stars and the twinkling lights of the town beyond the trees. She stiffly moved from the mound of dirt and fell heavily onto the gravel of the path. Her vision wheeled, her senses revolted against the strange sights and the eerie silence of an empty graveyard. She wanted to scream but as the seconds passed she realised that there was nothing to scream about. She was not being attacked, although something in her mind, something fading fast, was telling her that there was. She laid her head back on the stones and finally managed to slow her breathing. The full moon shone down on her from among the stars. It was a comfort in that moment.
She didn’t know how long she waited but eventually she stood up on shaky legs. She had been buried in a white dress, streaked with dirt now. Her feet were bare. The only other thing she had was a diamond ring on her left hand. She stared at it, feeling….nothing. The word bride came to mind but she didn’t associate it with herself. She couldn’t associate anything with herself. Hesitantly she turned to look at the headstone of the grave she had just clawed her way out of. She didn’t recognise the name. She couldn’t remember hers either but something told her that the name carved into that marble was not her own. She saw the moving lights of a town in the distance. It was her only option right now.
With the absence of traffic on the roads as she made her way in the direction of civilisation, she guessed that it was either very late or very early. The streetlights kept her moving. She felt safer in the darkness between them than underneath their sickly orange glare. Eventually her plodding steps stopped. She felt faint. Darting down an alleyway that smelled vaguely of sewage she leaned against the wall and threw up. There wasn’t much to throw up but the dry retching left her throat raw. With a weak whimper she sat on the ground. She placed both hands on her forehead and tried to remember.
Nothing came. She didn’t know where she was, who she was, or even her name. Was she dead? As ridiculous as that sounded to her, even as she sat there in grave sullied clothes, she still had to wonder. Or had she been buried alive? The panic that she had felt as she opened her eyes in that box was still fresh and her heart began to race again. She breathed deeply to dispel it.
“Are you okay?” a voice beside her uttered. She jumped with fear and scrambled backwards a little. It was a boy. Thirteen, maybe fourteen. He was near the entrance to the alley, kneeling down to look at her. The street light behind him cast a shadow that made it impossible to see his face. He didn’t look very big though. Thin and wiry. She could take him if she had to.
“No.” she said, “I need help.” Her voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Without considering anything, she scrambling forward quickly. He fell backwards with fright and fell into the glow of the streetlight. She was reaching for him but stopped in mid air. The look on his face. Sheer panic in his innocent blue eyes. She backed away and pulled her hands in close to her stomach. “Will you help me?” she asked levelly. Silence followed her plea.
“I’ve seen you before.” He said, his voice breaking.
She had to restrain herself from reaching for him again. “Where?”
“On TV.” He answered, slowly moving back to a kneeling position. “Your funeral was all over the news.” He whispered.
She stared at the ground. “When?” was all she could verbalise right now.
“A few days ago. Just before your wedding.” This made her breath catch a little. She stood up and leaned back against the wall, afraid that she might be sick again. He stood up with her and waited, unsure what to do.
“Are you… did you actually die?” There was no one to hear, but he was still whispering.
“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully.
He glanced at the street behind them. There was no one there. No one was there to help him. She pulled in a ragged breath and he turned back to her. No one to help her but him.
She straightened up and turned to him with determination in her eyes. “The man I was supposed to marry, do you know his name?”
He tried to recall for a minute. “No. I can’t remember.”
She sighed and gazed up at the heavens in defeat.
“But I know where he lives.”