I woke up dead today.

I was lying on my back in a tucked away alley between two bars on Main Street.

The smell was overwhelming, garbage warmed in the new day’s sun orbiting the putrid sinkhole of my body, a few too many days un-showered and pickled with cheap booze.

That smell was all that I had to let me know that I still existed. I couldn't see, I couldn't feel, I couldn't… anything.

I was stuck inside my body like the medieval iron maiden, it felt like a car that wouldn't start and with doors welded shut. I knew that the body wasn't me, that I was

something else inside of it, I knew that I was aware, that I still existed. But I knew that I was dead,I knew this absolutely, I knew it like you know that you are alive. There isn’t a question about it.

Is this what death is?

A billion people trapped inside their own rotting corpses, alone. As I considered my situation the lack of exterior stimulation was like white noise, then a memory began to form, slowly becoming clearer through the static.

"Get the hell out of here!" The bartender screamed as his stoutly built employee forcibly removed me from his establishment and flecks of spittle flew out into the street to greet me on the pavement.

I was surprised, no- I was shocked. Only moments ago that bartender might have

been my best friend. I'd been sitting at that bar for going on seven hours. I'd told that bartender everything. Ten minutes ago I bet he knew me better than anyone else in the whole world.

Hubert was his name, what kind of name was Hubert? His parents must have hated him, a name like that can only be vengeance thrust upon you for existing. Maybe that was why he was a bartender. A name like Hubert could drive a man to drink.

That isn’t why I drink, I think to myself. Nash is a cool name and you’re a cool guy. So why would I be sitting in a bar alone with Hubert for seven hours you might ask? The same reason that I've spent the Sixth of December every year for the last eight years in a bar with someone like Hubert. The Sixth of December is the day my daughter died.

This year was Hubert.

Last year was Roscoe.

Waylin the year before that.

Then Ferguson....

Before that I don't remember.

Why do bartenders always have stupid names, it must be psychological, I bet next year it will be Beuford or something equally ridiculous. As my face hit the pavement, I was momentarily relieved of the pain, for an instant forgetting the little girl I lost.

Her mother had died giving birth to her and after that I put all of my love into that little girl, she was everything to me.

The feeling of the pavement smashing into my chin felt dulled, like being hit with a golf club through eight inches of padding, from seven hours of straight Whiskey, I made it a point not to dilute my booze on the sixth, not even with ice. The combination of pavement and booze temporarily drowned out my sorrow. It felt good!

My anguish wasn't held back for long. The pain subsided and Devyn came raging again into the forefront of my mind. I needed another bar, I needed another Hubert. I'd made it a point to never go back to the same bar twice. I didn't want Roscoe, or Waylin, or Ferguson laying their sympathy on me and I didn't want a free round. I wanted to vomit my problems onto someone else, let them bear the weight of my shitty life even if only for one night. I didn't want charity, I wanted to drag someone down into my dark depths, and then when it was over I wanted to leave.

As I walked down main-street in this dive of a town looking for another hole in the wall bar, I came to a harsh realization. Hubert was my last poorly named victim. I'd been to every bar in town, they all knew my sad story.

I thought about just going home, I hadn't showered today and I was still in yesterday’s clothes with yesterday’s hair and yesterday’s caked deodorant. I stunk and I was drunk but I hadn't quite drowned out Devyn just yet.

The night had all but expired. The regulars had all gone home and the streets were quieting down. All I had left for company was blinking neon signs and trash spilling out of the gutters spinning wildly around shuffling feet.

I watched myself, moving through this memory and I looked terrible, the real life smell invading this vision only made it worse.

Suddenly, came the knowledge that I wasn't alone, I watched myself stumble into an alley outside of Hubert’s bar. In the back of the alley was a man who made my disheveled state look like a new day’s rising sun.

I started to walk toward him. I thought that I might tell him my story. I liked the idea of finding someone whose life was already worse than mine and seeing if I could push them a little farther down. Plus I thought he might have some cheap booze.

“Heyrr Buddyy.” I slurred.

I was stumbling now. He looked up from the pile of his few belongings lying on the street, he seemed startled. I laughed uncontrollably, maniacally. I wondered how bad I must look for this man, the scum of modern society to want to cross a street to avoid me.

I didn't care, I was determined to tell my story. I wanted him to listen, I wanted someone to suffer, so I wouldn't have to. I started quickly forward, stumbling, mumbling, and drooling. I bet I looked crazy to him.

“Get away from me!.” He screamed, his voice rocky from years of neglect.

I continued forward hands outstretched. I built momentum, he was backed into a corner now.

“I.... I just want.... ta tell you something.”

The words got jumbled between my mind and my mouth.

“Back off. Just leave me alone!” he said.

I smiled.

“Hey... hey, jus, jus lisssen.”

He pushed me away, but I wouldn't stop. I needed to tell him, I needed him to feel horrible like I did. I stalked toward him again, and once more he shoved me away. I slammed against the back wall of the bar, opposite the hobo in the back of a darkened alley.

December Sixth was nearing to a close and I hadn't yet drowned out the sadness. I patted my fingers against the back of my head. As I brought them to my face blood dripped leaving tiny splatters on the pavement.

I must have banged my head pretty hard on the bricks. The blood, thinned from seven hours of whiskey, came oozing from the back of my head.

The loss of blood combined with the booze made me dizzy and the world spun beneath me. I stopped where I was and vomited close to one hundred dollars worth of grief into the street, I wiped my mouth and started back toward the man across from me.

I’m stumbling forward now, hands outstretched, dizzy, barely able to stand. I collapsed forward, dropping my body like dead drunken weight on my unwilling companion.

I felt a new sensation, it burned deep and stinging into my gut; despair. I'd hit rock bottom, my head was spinning. The vagrant suddenly seemed more frightened

than before, he scrambled out from under me quickly, like his life was in danger and as he did I noticed that something felt different. Something felt wrong.

The deep feeling of desolation in my gut was replaced by a sharp pain. My eyes and my hands moved toward my abdomen; the source of the deep and stinging pain.

A large shard of glass was buried deep into my stomach and blood was spilling unrelentingly forward. My field of vision was blurred and started to narrow from the outside in. As I began to slip, my vision receded until it was nothing more than a small circle in the center of my eyes. I watched through thickened shadows as the hobo tiptoed away, then I slumped down into the corner of the alley, among a pile of his belongings as the taste of metal filled my mouth.

~~~~

Suddenly I miss Devyn more than ever.

I guess I always thought that when I died I'd get to see her again, that or at least I'd be gone and I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. Maybe this is my own personal hell.

Might as well be, trapped inside my body with nothing but memories of a tormented life. Suddenly I feel horrible for burying her. Maybe she is stuck in her body, locked in a casket. Trapped for eternity.

I've got to get out of here, I'll drive myself crazy. Is this our great afterlife, the legacy of humanity, a billion crazy souls trapped inside their own rotting flesh.

The smell is overpowering.

I wonder how long it's been since that stupid bum stabbed me. How long has it taken for me to drift through my mind?

All I have is the sadness.

The pain.

That horrible smell.

And the fact that someday, probably soon, they'll find my body and lock me away in the dirt.

The weight of all of these burdens was becoming far too much to bear. I began pounding on the walls of my insides ferociously, hoping to break a window and set myself free. It was as if all of life's sadness had come back to crash down on me all at once. I couldn’t think straight and in the midst of my personal hell I screamed, ferociously and without restraint.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

mmmmnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuu.

The low moan sounded different, it sounded... physical, not just in my mind. I tried again this time speaking and as the word “hello” echoed through my mind, so too did a low hollow moan echo against the walls of the alley.

~~~

Have you ever tried to look into the bottom of a pool without goggles, everything is blurry and without detail. That's how it was when my eyes finally opened. Somehow in the midst of my temper tantrum, I found my way back into the driver seat and everything clicked back on.

Reconnecting with my body came with complete sensory overload. Previously, all I had was that horrible smell burning in my nostrils, but suddenly in the same moment that I heard my own voice burst out in a moan, all of my senses returned to me. I could see. I couldn't see well but there were vague silhouettes and shadowy images all around like food coloring swirling in milk.

I could hear.

Again this sense was dulled, it was as if I had cotton filling both of my ears and everything sounded very far away.

I could feel.

Emotional feeling had never left me and had in fact increased dramatically but now I could feel physically. I expected to feel pain but there was none. I was glad for that because I'm sure the pain would have been unbearable, the vague outline of a large shard of glass still protruding from my gut.

I did feel something though, something very strong, something that I couldn't shake off.

Hunger.

There was a sense of hunger like none I had ever felt before. The feeling was so strong that it overshadowed everything else. Any sense of logic or rationale was eclipsed by this incredible desire to feed.

Full movement had come back to my body and without even thinking I was on the move, scrambling on all fours through that darkened back alley navigating slowly through the milky haze.

The only sense not dulled by the hunger was my sense of smell, still strong as before and still burning with that horrible scent that had haunted me since I’d woken up here.

I still felt like a passenger in my body rather than the driver passively moving under some foreign locomotion and I couldn't help but notice that I was moving closer and closer to that awful smell!

“Why am I moving closer?”

I said it out loud as if my body were some other person as if asking a question to which I didn’t know the answer. After only a few moments of scrambling through the mud and muck of that back alley I stopped. The smell was outrageous, overbearing, burning and painful but also...... intoxicating.

There was something right in front of me, I couldn't tell what it was but it smelled disgustingly delicious.

What could it hurt, I'm already dead.

I tore into it with a ferocity of which my former self wouldn’t have been capable. I picked up a nearby object, rolling it around in my hands feeling its textures and its contours. The conscious part of my mind kept wondering what it was, knowing that it felt oddly familiar, but the unconscious part didn't have time for inquiry.

I began bashing it on the ground violently, I was reminded of an ape smashing a melon on a rock to get to the fleshy innards.

I smashed and smashed until the melon split open across the back. Reaching in, I began tearing out chunks from the inside and shoving them into my mouth ravenously like an animal. I couldn't taste anything but it immediately relieved the hunger. Not only that, but my other senses sharpened immensely upon feeding.

It was as if the cotton had been pulled out of my ears, my hearing was sharp and acute, I could hear a cat scratching in the dirt, blocks away.

My eyes were clear and I could see the smallest detail, down to the minute abrasions on the gravel in the alleyway several feet away.

My joy was short lived, with my recently renewed senses came that realization that in my hands I wasn't holding a melon.

I was holding a human head.

The head had been split open across the back from my repeated poundings against the asphalt. The inside of the skull had been scraped clean, I could see the markings of my fingernails against the bone.

“Oh my God....”

I wanted to puke, not from the taste; there was none, but because of what I had done. I stumbled backward choking and spitting vehemently. It took a few moments for me to get a hold of myself. In the midst of my shock I realized that I was glad I couldn't taste it.

The horrible smell was gone and my mind was free to fully envelope what was happening. I could smell other things, the ability was far more powerful than anything I had experienced in life, the precision of the sense was amazing. I could smell the individual flowers from the cart down the corner. I could smell the moisture and the dirt in the alleyway. I could smell the flesh and the bones under my fingernails. The smell of death was heavily present, a combination of mine and his.

There were faint smells, almost masked but still there.

Cheap booze and pills.

I looked toward my melon, and the body attached to it. In one hand a bottle of cheap vodka, the kind you buy by the gallon. In the other hand an empty bottle of sleeping pills.

Through the plastic of the vodka bottle I could see blood on the man's hand, it was slashed open across the palm and little splinters of glass were stuck in the skin.

Then I recognized the face.

Stupid hobo.

I didn't feel bad anymore, he'd killed me. My life wasn't anything to be envious of but it was mine, and now look at me. I'm stuck inside this stinking rotting corpse, crawling in alleyways eating stupid hobo heads.

I kicked his limp body, laughed at the sight of his head split open, I was glad. He deserved it. I looked down on his body, wondering if he was trapped inside. Wondering if he might float through his own sea of memories, wondering if he would wake up. I laughed again, louder this time and danced my expired body around in circles with glee.

I knew that even if he was in there that he wouldn't hear me but it made me feel better just the same. It seemed that in this existence everything was stronger. My hands more ferocious, my emotions untamed. I had been hungrier than ever before, I missed Devyn more than ever and I hated that stupid hobo more than I had ever hated anyone.

I hoped that he was trapped in there, like he had made me, and I was going to make sure that if he ever woke up, he'd still be stuck.

~~~~

I made short work of dismembering him, my powerful hands tore the limbs from his body easily. First I took off the right leg, then his left. I moved then to the arms; right, then left. Lastly I plucked out his eyes, right then left.

I took one last look at my handy work, brimming with pride at my accomplishment and then moved past him to the street beyond the alleyway.

I caught my reflection in a window outside of that last bar on Main Street. I looked like hell, no way could I pass for a normal human being in full daylight. I knew that I'd have to find a good place to hide until nightfall. First I thought I might go back to the alley behind the bar, but there is already one corpse back there and two bodies, one of them dismembered, might attract the wrong kind of attention.

I’m not about to be buried. I'll have to find somewhere else to hide.

I was still wearing the same clothes, now on day three. Three day old clothes. Three days since my last shower. Three day old deodorant, and now I was dead.

My situation hadn't improved much.

The world was sill sleeping, no longer night but not quite day. I needed to find some place to hide. I figured my apartment would do well enough for now, I could stay there for a few days without raising too much suspicion, after that I'd have to find a more permanent accommodations.

~~~

A dirty old backpack lay in front of the door, what was once bright orange has transformed into a color that can only be described as rusty mud. It's in quite a state of disrepair from a few too many hiking trips. Inside of the backpack are a few sets of clothes. I couldn't think of anything else to pack. It's definitely time to get out of here.

Week old dishes are growing mold in the sink, the apartment looks like a tornado formed inside of it, and the smell of death has soaked into the walls. Not even four showers and some stress relief candles from last year’s office Christmas party could cover it up.

On top of that, Mrs. Hirsch from up stairs stops by every couple of hours to check on me. Mrs. Hirsch... I can't stand that old lady. the walls in this building are thin and the ceilings are thinner. I can almost always hear her upstairs talking to her seven cats. She talks to them in that stupid high pitched voice that people reserve for animals and babies. She doesn't work, her husband died a few years ago, lucky bastard, now she lives off of the life insurance and whiles away her time doing god knows what. Lately her favorite pass-time has been to annoy the hell out of me, wonder what she'll do when I'm gone?

She came by first thing in the morning two days ago, said she was worried. Said she'd heard strange noises coming from my apartment- said they sounded like moaning.

She left me breakfast in a plastic container. She's brought me three meals a day, every day, since then so by my count there should be a nice little pile of seven un-eaten meals in front of my door. I've got to get out of here before lunch so that I can avoid her. I've spent the last two days learning how to walk straight again.

Walking the streets of the city all gimped out didn’t seem like he best of ideas. I shouldn‘t be drawing attention to myself. I'm not quite back to normal yet but it's about as good as it's gonna get and I think I should pass for normal enough as long as I keep my face covered and my head down.

I've got a clean set of clothes on and that makes me feel a bit better but I can't stop thinking that clean clothes are a bit of a waste over a body that is literally wasting away beneath them polishing a turd and all that.

Oh well...

finishing touches are a heavy coat with the collar popped up and a ball cap pulled down low over my face. I feel like the unibomber meets a trash heap.

I guess that's it, I'll just grab my pack and-

A series of three small knocks tap against my door.

Damn it. Not quick enough, lunch time already.

Every time she brings me a meal I'm reminded of how hungry I am, the burning in my gut has returned and all of my other senses have started to dull. the only problem is that I don't want that crap that's now piled eight high outside my door. I'm just certain Mrs. Hirsch's cooking is horrible and I wouldn't have eaten it in life, I'm sure as hell not eating it now.

I set down my pack and take a seat at the table. She knocks again, this time with more force.

“Hello Mr. Nash. I'm really worried about you.” I could hear her wimpy voice through the thin particle board.

I don't say anything. I don't want to talk to that old biddy- as if I could.

“Mr. Nash, if you don't let me in right now I'm going to call the police.”

That’s exactly what I don’t need, the cops running all over the place. I assume it will happen eventually but I need just a little more time. I stand up from the table leaving my bag by the chair and walk toward the door.

“Mr. Nash I can hear you in there, just let me see you so I know you're all right.”

I reach for the knob, turn it and throw the door open making sure to keep my head down.

“Oh! Hello Mr. Nash.”

I don't reply.

"Well.... I don't know if you knew but I've been bringing you food." She said quite proudly.

She points to the stack of containers on the ground. I nod.

“Is everything alright Mr. Nash, I've been hearing..... strange noises.”

I just keep looking down, avoiding eye contact with her. I'm trying not to make her suspicious but I don't know how well it's working.

“Would you mind if I came in and had a look around, just for my own sake?” she asks feigning innocence.

All I want to do is leave in peace and she insists on having a look around. I step aside and let her in, she hobbles past me taking tiny old lady steps and holding her food container close to the chest. She stops just inside the doorway and scans the room.

I wonder what she's looking for. Her eyes stop when they reach the chair pushed out from the table and my pack resting against it.

“Going somewhere Mr. Nash?”

She turns to me curiously and bends trying to see beneath my ball cap. I bow my head even lower and shrug my shoulders.

“Well Mr. Nash you be careful. Did you hear they found a man's body torn apart behind a bar downtown?” She said very matter-of-factly.

My eyes shot open in shock, if I had a beating heart I know it would be pounding through my chest. Panic started to course through my body.

“Yes, it's true. Granted it was in one of ‘those’ parts of town so it’s to be expected”

She said, pausing for dramatic effect.

“They think it was some sort of animal attack, said the man’s body was ripped apart.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I was beginning to get annoyed with old lady Hirsch. As the panic subsided it was replaced again with the hunger. A hunger so strong that it overpowered everything. The hunger had gotten worse, increasing exponentially, after old lady Hirsch had come inside, her scent burned hot in my nostrils. the smell was that of most old people; potpourri, soap, and too much perfume but underneath all of that was a smell that only recently became familiar to me. It was the smell I woke up to in that alleyway those few nights ago. The smell was so horrible, so painful in my nostrils, and still so disgustingly delicious I could feel my jaw tensing and growing warm with anticipation and want.

I pulled together my strength and walked over to the drawer beside the sink, I opened it and pulled out a pad of paper and pen. Setting it down on the table I scratched a note on the page and turned it toward old lady Hirsch. After all it would be irresponsible for me to go out in public like this right?

She set down her dishes and slipped on her glasses. She pulled the notebook close to her face to read what I had written—

The words ‘I think I would like a snack after all’ were scribbled with trembling hands across the page. She scarcely had time to take in their meaning before I pounced.

I leapt forward like a panther taking the old lady down, she didn't stand a chance, The need to feed had taken over and again I felt like a passenger inside my own body. A helpless bystander, the ghost inside the monster-machine.

My teeth came crunching down on her skull. I could feel the shavings of bone building up behind my incisors. It was only seconds before my canines broke through and the sinister sweet smell of succulent gray matter filled my nose.

I sucked it out through the small hole in her head like one of those tropical drinks out of a coconut, all that was missing was the little umbrella.

I dropped her lifeless body on the floor and as my senses returned to me I realized I had made a horrible mess. I thought that maybe I should clean up before I headed out into the world. I made my way to the bathroom to wash the meal off of my face and clean off the bits that were clinging to my collar. After having cleaned up as much as possible, I went back to the living room to gather my pack and be on my way.

I almost forgot about Mrs. Hirsch but there she was sprawled out on my living room floor.

“Better do the dishes.” I said to myself as a low moan escaped my throat in place of the words I had intended.

I picked up old lady Hirsch with one hand and dragged her toward the door. I opened it just a crack and checked to see if anyone was around. The halls were clear, everyone was still at work for the day. I took a quick step out into the hall and tripped over seven containers of neighborly love.

“The old lady is still annoying me, even in death.”

Quickly I carried her up the stairs and into her apartment, I tossed her inside like dirty laundry on the floor and she landed face down, mangled in a pile surrounded by her cats.

“Thanks for lunch Mrs. Hirsch.” I moaned adding insult to fatal injury.

I closed her door and turned toward the stairs, now that I felt more myself again I thought it was time to be on my way. I popped up my collar, pulled down my ball cap and started down the stairs.

I made it easily past the doorman and outside, into the afternoon air. The streets were bustling and the sun was high so I kept my head down. I wouldn't need to look where I was going much anyway, I was fairly certain the smell would guide me to my new place of residence.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk, set my gaze to the ground and took my first step toward Ashwick Cemetery.

~~~

It's ironic that I would spend my after-life in a cemetery. I'd done what most others couldn't, I'd stayed inside my body and jump started the machine. I don't know if most others just stop existing, or if they're stuck inside their bodies or if they've moved on to heaven and hell or whatever.

All I know is that I'm here in Ashwick Cemetery, the only difference between me and them is that I'm above ground.

I came here because it's the only place where the smell of death is normal, I won't seem out of place. I have to admit I did have other motives. Devyn is buried here.

I walked through the big steel gates just before closing time and made my way down the winding sidewalk pathways. I didn't consciously know where I was going but I ended up in front of a tiny headstone.

Devyn's headstone.

It looked new compared to the others around it, only eight years old. Her name was in the center and there were fairies on both sides. She loved fairies. I spent a long time staring at that tiny stone.

I reached over and took the flowers from the grave next to hers, they would look better over here anyway. The sadness that had been a constant part of my life for the past eight years was so much stronger every time I visited her, and even more so now.

I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. She would have been nineteen now. Graduated from High School, off to college, maybe married. It's not fair. At least she's moved on.

“Hey pal.” Said a voice from behind me.

There was a tap on my shoulder, it was the cemetery grounds-keeper. He looked down at the headstone and saw the dates that marked her life.

“Oh.... look, I know it's tough, and I know you want to stick around but you gotta go.”

I didn't say anything. I just stood there with my head down partly from sadness and partly to hide my face.

“Hey, if it were up to me I'd let you stay but we can't have folks staying once their time is up...... we don't want kids vandalizing the stones, or digging up bodies… the dead should stay in the ground.”

That's when it hit me. Much of the sadness I had been feeling- hell, almost all of it was guilt. Guilt for burying her. She was smart, what if she'd escaped her body like I did. If I could do it she definitely could, being so much better than me. What if she had woken up and still spent the last eight years trapped in the dark, in a box, buried underground.

I could dig her up.

I could set her free.

And we could be together again!

Excitement flowed through me, it was the first time I'd been truly happy in years.

“Come on pal, don't make me get serious.”

I nodded, I started walking down the path back the way I came.

“I'm Jack by the way, I‘ll be seeing you around.”

I half turned back toward him and slightly nodded. Grounds-keeper Jack stayed right there by Devyn's grave, I guess I'll have to walk over toward the gates before doubling back, he has to believe I am leaving. I strolled slowly and spent the long walk searching for somewhere that I could hide out for a while. I thought about leaving and sneaking back in, but I knew it would be easier if I just stayed inside the gates. I considered hiding high in a tree but it is December and without any leaves it wouldn't offer much cover.

I was almost to the gates and I still hadn't found a good place to hide out. I was almost out of sidewalk, the only thing between myself and the gate was a huge mausoleum.

If I could just pry the door open I could hide out inside before going back to dig up Devyn. I looked around to make sure grounds-keeper Jack wasn't anywhere in sight. After taking a good look around I gripped the large stone door with both hands and pulled as hard as I could.

The door slid open slowly with a loud grinding noise. I took a look inside, the sliver of light coming in from the fading sun gave me a small amount of illumination. There were cob-webs everywhere and through them, in the center of the room was a large stone casket. I wondered who this man was that he thought he deserved a shrine. But, I was glad to him for giving me a place to hid.

“Hope you don't mind some company.” I said to the corpse, not expecting any response.

I slid inside through the small opening I had made. Even though I am dead I couldn't shake the creepy feeling of what I was doing. Something about being inside a stone room with a dead guy just doesn't feel right, even for me. I gripped the large stone door once more and pulled it closed. The door again ground against the floor protesting any movement. With the door closed again, none of the sun made it inside the tomb, it was completely void of light and sound. I was immediately brought back to the feelings I felt when I woke up in that alleyway. I was trapped in the theater of my mind and there were no comedies or family films to be found, only tragedies and horrors.

Images floated across my mind and danced in the darkness as if they were real. This time though they weren't memories, they were fears. All that I could see was Devyn sealed in her casket clawing at the surface. I saw her nails breaking off and her hands bleeding in desperation. My little girl, sealed away with nothing but the pain and the sound of her own screams. I collapsed on the floor of the tomb and started to weep, I knew that these next few hours would be the worst of my existence.

~~~~

After several hours had passed I decided it had probably been long enough but mostly I just couldn't bear to be in here anymore, knowing that she was suffering just a few hundred yards away. I stood up and walked toward the stone door. I started to push the entrance open slowly, only a centimeter at a time.

I didn't know if Jack was nearby and I didn't want him to know that I was here. The anniversary of my daughter’s death gave me safe passage before but certainly there is a limit to his compassion. Finally after a few moments I got the door open enough to see out of. The moon was shining brightly and it gave off plenty of light. My eyes took a moment to adjust. I scanned back and forth looking for any sign of Jack but there was none.

I pushed the door out a little bit more and slid out through the opening. After having sealed the tomb again I made my way back toward Devyn's grave. This body had become strong and it allowed me to move quickly and quietly. I made my way toward the grave in what seemed like only seconds. The fear and the suffering that I had felt over the past few hours had all faded away and was replaced by feelings of joy and excitement. I was delighted at the thought that very soon I would be with my little girl again.

I kept an eye out for Jack. He seemed caring, he seemed like a nice guy, I didn't want him to see me because I didn't want to have to kill him.

I looked up every once in a while to see where I was going, to see if Jack was around, but more than that I was relying on my nose. The living have a strong scent and I knew I would be able to smell him coming long before I could see him.

Once I reached her graveside I began my dirty deed. I didn't have any tools so I just started digging with my hands. the power in my arms made every stroke strong and deep. I could see that this really wouldn't take much time at all. I dug out a shallow hole, only a handful deep but six feet long and four feet across. I wanted to be sure I would have room to work with when I reached her, I wanted to be sure I could get her out.

I used that first shallow hole as a guide for the rest of my dig. I kept digging quickly and straight down, the dirt was hard in some places and it took some extra effort to break through. I hoped she would be happy to see me.

I wondered if she would even recognize me or if she would be ravenous with hunger. I could barely make it two days without feeding, I'm sure she would be starved after eight years. My mind was wandering absently over ways that I could get her to feed with the least collateral damage when I hit something hard with a punctuated thud.

I raised a hand preparing to punch through. My fist was high and ready to land the blow when I saw it- the big fairy on the top of her casket. I wiped the dirt away and stepped back.

A moment of hesitation.

Then I quickly threw the lid open with a smile, breaking it off at the hinges and tossing it high across the night sky. I stood up with my arms wide open ready to greet her. She didn't move..... She just lay there, just the way she was when I put her there eight years ago.

There were no claw marks in the lid of her casket, no signs of struggle at all. Her decayed body just lay there so peaceful, still holding the Teddy bear we buried her with. It was her favorite little bear with fairy wings. My dead heart sunk in my chest, a mix of emotion spiraling through my head. I felt so lonely, so sad. I wouldn't get to be with my daughter again.

I'd built my hopes up, so sure that she would be awake, but she was better than that. So sad, yet so happy. I was glad to know that she wasn't awake, that she never had been. She hadn't suffered in fear, alone in the dirt.

She had moved on, I knew that if I lived on after death that she had too and that if she wasn't here she was someplace else, and I would find her someday. Maybe she was with her Mom, maybe I was the only one who would be alone.

I lifted her body out of her casket and carefully pulled her close to me. I smiled.

After a moment I gently laid her back inside her cushioned bed, she still looked so sweet and peaceful to me. I softly pulled the Teddy bear from under her arm, she didn't need it anymore. I gave her one last look, kissed my fingertips and pressed them to her lips.

“Goodbye sweetheart.”