Dead Things

Thump.

    “Sleep,” Oliver mumbled. He needed sleep and it was elusive.

    Thump.

    Oliver sat up only to be pulled back down by the cotton blanket wrapped around his neck. There was another thump against the side of the house as he wrestled with the piece of cloth choking him. He freed himself as he fell from his small bed landing on his face.

    “A masterful performance, young man.”

    Oliver lifted his face from the pile of dirty clothes and turned his head to see who was up at this ungodly hour. He blinked his eyes to see a tall, thin man standing in the doorway. He was so pale his skin practically glowed in the dark and as usual, he was dressed impeccably, not a single strand of long white-blond hair was out of place. “Master Raven?”

    Raven nodded as he pointed to the window. “Meet me outside.”

    Oliver scrambled to his feet, tripping over his belongings strewn about the tiny room. He made it outside and looked around for Raven as he fixed his clothes. He went to take a step towards Raven who was standing by the water pump and found himself eating dirt. He looked down to see what was holding on to him and screamed.

    Raven sighed. “I warned you last month this would happen.”

    Oliver managed to free himself from the dead man’s grasp, backed up a couple of feet then stood. He grabbed the sleeve to Raven’s jacket and pointed at the dead man getting to his hands and knees. “He, he’s dead.”

    “How else would you describe a corpse?”

    Oliver released Raven’s sleeve and stepped behind him as the corpse moved closer. ”I, you said I had time, I had a choice.” He swatted the dead man’s hand off his pants leg then stepped back and looked at Raven. “You said I had a choice.”

    “Yes, I did. Your first choice would be to become my apprentice and learn to use this rare gift. The second choice is to start running.” Raven walked beside the corpse as it crawled after Oliver.

    Oliver felt trapped. Gifts were good things, gifts were presents on your birthday and holidays; they were shiny or useful. He pushed the dead guy’s hand off his pants again and started walking backwards towards the field. He looked at Raven again. “Can’t you do something; you’re the Master Necromancer not me?”

    Raven shrugged as he followed them. “I could but he’d only rise again to seek you out it’s not my light he seeks, but yours.”

    “Why me?”

    “The dead, much like the living have their reasons. Although the dead are easier to deal with, you will find them  persistent.”

    Oliver stepped around the water trough and watched horrified as the corpse pulled itself up, fell into the water and dragged itself back out to get to him. He took another step back as the corpse made a grab for him.

    Raven pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He went to say something to Oliver when a noise came from the house.

    Oliver looked towards the house. He was pretty sure his parents were awake and on their way to see what the commotion was about. He looked down at the dead man crawling after him then at the forest just beyond the field. He felt a tug on his pants leg and shook his leg to dislodge the corpse then he felt a sharp pain on his ankle.

    “Ouch!” A crow pecked at him. He knew it was dead because he held it earlier today while it died. When he buried it, he didn’t expect it to come back to life. He heard muffled sounds coming from the house and a dim light making its way through the kitchen. Run, he could run. Running was a choice wasn’t it? He turned; ready to make the only choice that made sense.

    “What shall I tell your parents?”

    Oliver swiped at the dead man and shooed at the crow waving his hands. “I don’t know, I, ouch!” He hopped backwards as the crow pecked his knee. “Help?”

    “I don’t think your parents can help you with this.”

    “Heh, Mom would faint,” and Dad would try to kill it even more, he thought. He kicked at the bird and missed. How many more nights would he wake up to find a dead man knocking on his door? How far could he run before the dead stopped chasing him? He looked at Raven, “Help me, please?”

    Raven nodded once. “Stop.”

    Both the raven and the corpse stopped moving. Oliver laughed with relief. “Thank you.”

    “Take the deer trail through the forest back towards town to the village cemetery where you will find his grave.” He put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “What should I tell your parents?”

    Oliver huffed. “Well, I,” he stepped back as the corpse twitched. “It moved, it moved, Master Raven, it, stop.” He stepped back as the corpse continued.

    “Oliver?”

    It was his mom; his life was over now. “They won’t stop.”

    “It’s your choice young man. What do I tell your parents?”

    “I don’t know, I don’t know, ouch!” the dead crow pecked at him again. “Stop pecking me,” the bird hopped after him but didn’t peck at him. “I have a gift,”

    “Yes, you do.”

    “I attract dead things,” Oliver took a step back as the corpse closed the gap between them. He saw his dad take a step off the porch.

    “That is your curse.”

    Oliver looked at his parents and realized running really wasn’t an option. “Not much of a choice, is it, run from the dead or,” he looked at Raven.

    “I’ll inform your parents of your decision. You are my apprentice now and your well-being is my concern. I’ll tell them you’ll be back in the morning to collect your things.”

    “What about the bird?”

    “We’ll discuss your familiar when we get back to my dungeon.”

THE END

© 2015 Cheryl Gates

E-mail: Cheryl Gates

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