“I’m trying to dig you out of your grave, you know. Look at all this dirt under my nails that I’ll never get out. That’s for you. All for you. So stop lying there, stop rotting, stop succumbing to the earth and just let me carry you out of it. You smell deathly, by the way. To think, the carrion flies wanted to feast on your flesh! That’s quite weird, you know, how life can be sustained through eating death. I guess we eat meat though, so I can’t really judge. Come on now, follow me.”
The corpse rises, unspeaking. The — what’s the opposite of a corpse? — the living one pulls the corpse into their arms, batting away the flies that have come to greet both of them.
“Let’s go. We’ll run away, really this time.”
The corpse stumbles along on their half-rotted legs, leaning on the living one as the living one leads them into the woods. The main thing one must note here is that the corpse is walking, so are they really a corpse? For now though, there’s no other good word for them.
“What does it feel like down there? Is it very cold? Don’t people say death is cold?Actually, you’d think it would be warm there, covered in earth with all those insects scrambling all over you. Look, you’ve got a bug just there, on your shoulder. Let me just flick it off for you. Oh, sorry, did you like that one? I guess it must’ve been hard to make any other friends down there. Stop giving me that look, I’m sorry.”
The corpse and the living one have walked together through the woods for hours or seconds now. Finally, they decide to rest underneath a tree. The corpse slumps down the side of it and falls asleep. Does a corpse truly sleep? Does a corpse truly wake? Only the corpse would know. The living one doesn’t seem to care that the corpse isn’t listening to them.
“You’re such a light sleeper. Maybe it was easy for you down there, then. It would’ve been like being asleep and you’re very good at being that. Not to make it all about me, but it was actually really hard for me up here. When you were gone. I don’t think anyone has ever liked me as much as you have, so I didn’t really have anyone else. Do you know how lonely it was? Sorry, I guess you must’ve been really lonely too. Well, it’s all alright now. We’ve got each other for always.”
The corpse wakes up, a second resurrection. They look straight at the living one with their glassy eyes and for the first time, make a sound. They breathe out, and the exhale transforms into a bloody scream, so horrific and loud that the living one must cover their fragile ears with their hands.
“Shhh, they’re going to find us again! You’re going to—”
The corpse grabs the living one by the neck and wraps their breaking fingers around their companion’s throat, pressing hard. The living one pleads with their eyes (an odd skill the living possess) for survival (an odd desire the living are so attached to). The corpse doesn’t respond to the life draining out of the living one’s eyes. The corpse doesn’t apologise.
Before they can think about what they’re doing, the corpse presses a kiss to the living one’s cold lips, inhaling their last breaths. Once all the air has finally escaped the living one’s lungs, the corpse carries them. Back through the forest. Back to the field. Back to the grave, now emptied.
Something else needs to fill this hole.
The corpse takes the living one’s body and places it into the grave, then gets down on their knees and begins to shovel handfuls of dirt from around the grave back into the hole, on top of the living one’s body.
I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but you know this is the same as what you did to me, right? You took me out of my world and forced me into yours. That’s what I’m doing to you now. I’m not saying you deserve this or anything. Actually, maybe you do, but who am I to speak of deserving? Anyway, I’m doing this to restore order, okay? One life for another. You have to understand that. Tell me you understand that!
The living one’s body, now beginning to rot, 6 feet deep, utters no reply.
The corpse looks down at their nails, caked with dirt that can never be washed out.
In another life, they might’ve both mused at the irony of it: whether you’re digging someone out or burying them in a grave, the dirt under your nails always looks the same.
this was a really good short story ❤️
I DID NOT EXPECT THAT ENDING. I fully believed this was some lovey dovey romance about a lover not being able to let go and the corpse would just go haha okay I will stay with you, This was so so beautifully written!!! This is such a good story congrats Maya!!!