I Am Not Dead

 In the heart of a long-abandoned graveyard, a thing stirred. Wrapped in ancient bandages like some mummified leviathan, it raised itself from the sunken coffin, bones creaking like old timber. This was no ordinary corpse; it had been interred here for centuries, but something—some dark force—had driven it back to the surface. It traversed the desecrated ground with an eerie grace, decaying flesh sloughing off in rotting clumps. Its eyes were pools ofyx blackness, windows into an abyss that held no reflection. The creature paused by a crumbling crypt, etched with worn words: "Here lies Doctor Elias Blackwood." Blackwood. The name reverberated through its mindless void, stirring echoes of memory. A face surfaced—a mirror image of its own decaying visage—and it remembered. He had been someone... someone important once. Now he was... this. A candle flickered at the stained glass window of St. Cuthbert's Church nearby. The creature limped towards it, drawn by the light and warmth like a moth to flame. Inside, Father Ignatius reefed his cassock around him as he tended to dying embers in the cold fireplace. "If you're come for my soul," he mumbled to himself," you'll have quite a wait." Yet even as he spoke denial aloud, he felt unease wriggling down his spine. The heavy doors groaned open behind him—snow drifted inside—and Ignatius whirled around just as Blackwood entered under his own crumbling power. "You should not be able to walk," Ignatius gasped out when horror allowed him speech. "Nor should I exist," came a voice; dry as dead leaves rustling beneathfoot and twice as chilling." Yet here we are." Ignatius crossed himself despite disbelief screaming in his brain."You cannot be Blackwood!" The thing tilted its head mockingly."Certainly not what you'd call alive anymore." "What do you want?" Ignatius asked through gritted teeth despite terror clawing at his insides like wildcats fighting over raw meat. "I am incomplete," said Blackwood—or rather whatever wore his face now."There is still... life missing from my body." Horror took on new meaning for Ignatius then."You've come after me?" "No," corrected Dead-Blackwood dismissively,'That would be too easy..."Its gaze fastened onto something behind him.'I want her..." Ignatius followed that dreadful stare—that promise of dread—to see Mrs.Hargraves slumped unconscious across pews towards sacrament , fluorescence casting sickly glow over her pale face.She lived alone since husband's death,dress hymns on Sundays though never sang.Some said she sought solace church; others whispered about secret prayer sessions late at night... "We share common interest after all," rasped Dead-Blackwood following Father's trailing thought.'She too hungers darkness..." Attack! cried every cell within Ignatius.'Fight!'Yet no strength answered prayer surge forward except bleak surrender confronted inevitability.Just slayer preying upon innocent woman.`Cannot allow anyone else suffer such horrendous fate`, yet knew helpless against whatever nauseating sorcery animated undead before him.Powerlessness gripped nausea convulsion caught throat.Wasn't meant this way! Dead-Blackwood lunged faster than decay should ever move,twisting liturgical cloth into puppet strings tears away towards sundering lifeless flesh.Frantic prayers tumbled exhausted tongue deaf ear unanswered winds getting louder resonating madhouse inside skull Buried memories began churn within boiling cauldron scream rage pain fear losing grips mind finer wielder separates --- Fourth day limping waking ignorance already commenced summon insane clumsy hands carve runes salt circle holding blood-tempered prismatic shards apart empty eyes stared petrified feasting fooled sensed hunger difference source strength roused primal awareness failed dispel existence choice stolen silence? Wandering absent-minded foggy night — figures flitted far corners classroom shadows looming taller cast damning pallor daylight hours — familiar decorum haunted Mister Henry Galt –>Remember those eyes?<– Racing past teaching desk where chair pushed awry against wall sconce flickering diluted light revealed dark stain seep ragged edges — visceral grotesque sprawled lumps clogged improvised weapon strewn floor: creaky door hinges groaned overthrow threshold nightmare visited previously escape possible –>When did school children get their teeth sharpened?!<– echoed finality grinding denial imaginary sane edge… Quoted remembering another scene whole again… poolroom stench cheap beer stagnant smoke sunlight filtered dirty panes tracing nuances creased brow cloud confusion contradict decipher half-glimpsed clouds reflected last week's tranquility pokér table row dingy cards stained nor cigarette fumes could entirely obscure truth.....oh God...not again!! Serpentine tendrils twisted droplets condensation collected ceiling tiles twitch-flicker ceiling fan pushed beyond rotatory limit trembling fingers unable hold steady pouch matches abandoned burning brands snuff-stubbled carpet ... hadn't been present when peeled loose vampires rapid decent swallowed whole . –> Blood-flush pounded throbbing temples prickles cascaded gooseflesh down spine iced sweat trickling drenched t-shirt stuck skin tight sensible red silk shirt gone replaced dreary adultery suit frumpy wool blend hair uncombed grasped clutch acquaintances coffee never happened left ghostly parody self-possessed teacher transformed scared shaking weary than lowland marshes heavy clay completely drained energy refusing take refuge friendly faces offered extended support... Education building sprawled longest block adjacent playground ragged talismans hanging decimated swings sourceless wind howled icily through more desolate open spaces mangled picnic tables splayed broken-hand bedposts clad white chalk drawings cryptic diagrams overlapping squiggles witchcraft contagion signpost meticulous precise genius recognized such monstrous perversion human psyche….impossible possess inequity perpetrate deprival free will ridiculously toilet seat brand-new class full wikipedia proverbially sat middle bench witter quest answer unleashed pandora box unleashing senseless brutality claimed entire families agonizing spectacles attributed personifiable perpetrator lurking cannibalistic impulses themselves Desperation urged onward ought converse only legible syntax wire tangled skew but latent incantations encapsulated relevance mystical symbols spoke volumes neither announced nor denied bitter reality … ---