#pls i need to finish this joke its been haunting me for days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

isthisthingeven0n · 3 years

Text

coping mechanisms : a.h

everyone has their ways of coping with traumatic events, but it’s finally time you faced yours. (2.5K)

m y e t s y s h o p

also pls don’t steal my work or share it without crediting, it takes a lot of time and effort to write these!

Sitting on the jet, you were abnormally quiet. Usually, the team couldn’t get you and Spencer to stop talking about anything and everything. Yet today, a strange silence loomed over you as Spencer rambled on about statistics, whilst Hotch tried to catch gaze from across the table that everyone besides you noticed.

“You know, based on Greek mythology, Ares is the God of War, son of Hera and Zeus and is one of the twelve Olympians. He’s also the equivalent of Mars in Roman mythology.” Spencer finishes his explanation with a small smile towards the team as your eyes remain fixated on the case file in front of you, something that didn’t go amiss by Hotch.

“So, this unsub thinks of himself as a God?” JJ questions as she scrolls through the various photos on her tablet of the nine victims so far.

“Each one has a new symbol on them, you see, on their wrists?” You finally speak up to everyone’s surprise. “Spence, are these symbols correlating to the other eleven Olympians?” You ask, focusing on your best friends gaze as his smile meets his eyes.

Taking in all of the images, Spencer nods. “It looks that way, but this one here, the sun which would symbolise Apollo, the God of archery, music, dance, healing diseases, truth and prophecy, and more recognisably sun and light. But it isn’t quite complete, looks as if the unsub was interrupted.” Spencer explains, watching as your interest quickly declines, and you lean back into your seat.

“Maybe there will be some security footage outside of the bar leading toward the alleyway the victim was found.” Hotch states, closing his case file as the jet begins to descend. “Morgan, I want you and JJ to go to the ME’s office, see if the symbols all correlate and any other marks that may be on the victims. Rossi, you and Reid go to the crime scene where Olivia Collins was found, see if anyone in the area saw anything. Y/n, you and I will go to the station.” Hotch tries to see if you’ll even focus on him, but you’ve retreated into yourself, shut down.

Eventually, you nod along with everyone else, unaware of the concern etched in Hotch’s hardened expression as you close your eyes, rubbing your temple as you lean against the window.

“Agent Hotchner?” A man walks over to you and Hotch, holding his hand out. “Officer Richards, a pleasure to meet you.”

“This is SSA Y/L/N, where would you like us to set up?” Hotch asks as you follow behind him to a free room, passing the blur of noise of phone calls and officers talking. “Y/n?” Hotch calls out your name, snapping out of your daze.

“Sorry,” You apologise, feeling the heat rising through your cheeks as Hotch hums to himself.

“Is something wrong, Y/n?” Hotch questions as he sits down beside you in the private office, his hands resting on the table. “If there is, you can tell me, especially if it affects your ability to work on the case.” Hotch tells you, his voice softer as your eyes grow heavy once more as you hide your hands in your lap.

“I don’t know Hotch,” You sigh. “and that’s the issue.”

Rising to his feet, Hotch closes the door to the room, shutting out the noise from the rest of the station as he returns to his seat beside you. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you? You seemed jittery on the jet.” Hotch states, not even needing you to agree with him.

“I just,” You struggle to form the correct words as you focus on your boss who looks back at you with a gentle expression. “I’m not feeling like myself, Hotch. And I just, I don’t know what to do about it anymore.”

Silence falls over you both as you play with the hem of your shirt, not wanting to face your bosses reaction. “Is it related to Utah?” Hotch watches as you tense at the mention of it. “If it is, you’re still entitled to see someone about it, Y/n.”

“But it was months ago, Hotch.” You comment quickly. “I should be over it, I moved on, I got better.” You explain. “So why is it now coming back to haunt me?” You exhale deeply.

“What happened to you in Utah isn’t something you can just walk away from, Y/n. You were captured and beaten, held at gunpoint in front of all of us to watch.” Hotch pauses as tears form in your eyes, one escaping as it glides across your cheek.

It was a sight Hotch will never be able to forget. He was the first one to find you in that building as you lay on the ground too weak to move. You were muttering nonsense as you screamed in pain when he tried to help you to your feet.

You were gone for three weeks, and in that time you were filmed being tortured and threatened to be killed whilst your team watched on a live stream. Hotch had never felt so useless since Hayley had died, and he didn’t dare want to risk losing you too, even if he had never said anything about how he felt.

“I know, I just want to forget about it.” You admit, wiping your eyes quickly with the cuff of your sleeve. “I have to.” You forcefully state before reaching over for the case files, but Hotch places his hand on the file, stopping you from taking it.

“Y/n,” Hotch starts with his authoritative tone. “you need to speak to someone when the case is over, and that’s an order.”

“I will, Hotch.” You force a small smile, taking the file and delving in deeper to the evidence that’s been collected so far.

“I’m saying that as your boss, and, and as a friend, okay?” Hotch adds softly, witnessing your forced smile soften into something genuine, even if it were for a split second, it returned.

You were getting closer, four more bodies had been found with the symbols of Hermes, Ares, Posideon and Hades carved into their wrists.

“What if the unsub knows we’re onto him? And this is his endgame now?” JJ suggests.

“But he hasn’t finished all twelve.” You state bluntly, ignoring the look on JJ’s face as you rise to your feet and look over the victim pool once more.

“Maybe that doesn’t matter to him.” Hotch comments, stepping toward you as he stands by your side, his back turned to everyone else. “Keep level, Y/L/N.” He mutters to you, a shudder going through your body as Hotch averts his attention back to the rest of the team. “Each of his victims has been associated in some way with each Olympian. Maybe he doesn’t have all twelve in the first place.”

“He’s halfway through the twelve though, why stop now?” Emily speaks up as Garcia interrupts and appears on the screen.

“Good afternoon my favourite crime fighters. I’ve discovered something that I think might help with your suspect pool.” Garcia states brightly. “It looks as if the victims were all part of the same after school club in High School. All from different friend groups and societies, but they all attended the Greek mythology club at Preston State.”

“How many others were involved in this group, baby girl?” Morgan asks, leaning forward as you listen to the sound of Garcia typing becoming further and further away.

“Four others. There’s Hayden Lewis who is currently serving seven months in jail for possession of drugs, Jordan Littlewood, she moved upstate to Michigan last year, Elise Harding and oh,” Garcia pauses, and you zone back into the room as you reach for the back of a chair to support yourself on.

“What?” JJ enquiries as Penelope pushes her glasses back up her nose, focusing on the camera.

“When the group was in school, there was a fire in the same block that the club was held in. It says that six students and one teacher were killed in the accident, including Greek mythology club member, Timothy Cardel.” Garcia sadly sighs.

“What time of day did the fire occur Garcia?” Spencer leans forward in his chair, and you can see the cogs whirring behind his eyes.

“Erm,” Garcia hums to herself until she clicks on something. “3:35 pm on a Tuesday.”

“What’re you thinking, Reid?” Hotch focuses on Spencer as you take a seat, catching Hotches eye for a split second before Spencer starts to explain his thought process.

“Most school clubs happen after school, meaning there’s a high possibility the Greek mythology club was held on a Tuesday after school, and all the members were there when the fire happened. If school finishes at 3, then they would’ve all been in that building when the fire started.” Spencer explains, and you nod along.

“Meaning Timothy got left behind.” You state coldly, all eyes turning to you.

“I think we’re ready to deliver the profile,” Hotch announces as he rises to his feet, the rest of you following suit.

Fastening the velcro around your vest, you place your gun into its holster, unaware of Hotch hovering by the doorway as you exit.

“Y/n,” Catching you by surprise, you jump before glaring to Hotch. “sorry,” He tries to sound sincere, but a small smile creeps into his face as you relax beside him. “are you sure you want to do this? It might be best if you stay at the station.” Hotch suggests in a low tone.

“No,” You respond too quickly. “I, I want to come. I’m fine, really.” You add, nodding to yourself as you walk on, but Hotch reaches for your arm, pulling you back.

Your eyes focus on his hand resting on your arm, and quickly Hotch removes his hand from your arm. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He tells you sincerely, something you’ve heard countless times, but something about this seems different. No one else in the team is around, they’re all outside waiting for you both.

“I won’t.” You mutter in response, moving aside from Hotch as you exit the building, thankful for some fresh air as your vest is starting to feel constrictive.

Upon arriving at the unsubs house, you’re already feeling the humidity getting to you worse than it had been the entire time you’d been in the city. Spencer joked when the jet landed that you’ll get used to it, that fewer layers were key and Garcia would’ve loved a chance to see Morgan in fewer layers; but this was far from pleasant.

As you all filed out, guns at the ready Morgan followed behind Hotch whilst you’re on the tail end of the team.

You were unintentionally squinting as you listen to the sound of Morgan kicking the front door in as Hotch’s firm voice fills your ears.

“Y/n?” Snapping out from the blurred house, three versions of Spencer takes over your peripheral. “Hey, let’s sit down, okay?” Spencer speaks quietly, delicately as he reaches out to take a hold of your arm, but you jolt away.

“Get off me.” You snap, walking past him as your vision only worsens and the humidity seeps through your clothing, itching your skin as each step feels weighted until you reach the steps of the house.

Hotch emerges behind JJ and Morgan as they hold the unsub, passing you quickly, hiding their concerned looks.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch steps closer, capturing a glimpse of panic in your eyes just as you pass out as your head hits the pavement.

Cold coffee and stale doughnuts. The well worn in fabric beneath you had a spring sticking out, jabbing against your left thigh. You were back in the station. But what was more surprising was the hushed sound of a conversation ending between two of your colleagues whilst your eyes remained closed.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell her?” Rossi mutters as he averts his gaze from your ‘sleeping’ form to Hotch, who is unable to take his eyes from you for a single second.

“I’m not sure, Dave.” Hotch admits, wanting to reach out and brush the stray hairs out of your face, but he doesn’t want to risk waking you up, not yet at least. “Maybe someday, but not today.”

Rossi tuts to himself. “You’re letting all the good ones slip out of your grasp, Aaron,” Rossi comments. “and you know how much Jack loves her.”

The mention of Jack causes your heart to swell, and it takes everything for you to not smile as you gain consciousness.

“He’s not the only one,” Hotch adds, just as a yawn escapes your lips and you begin to open your eyes.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Rossi speaks up, rising to his feet whilst Hotch stays glued to his chair beside you.

Slowly, you try to sit upright but Hotch leans forward, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “I’d just stay lying for a while if I were you.” Hotch suggests as you nod along, forcing yourself back down.

“I’ll go check on the others, let them know you’re alright.” Rossi excuses himself, leaving a heavy silence over you and Hotch.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Hotch asks, his stern gaze concentrated on the exhaustion in yours.

“No time like the present.” You force a laugh, ignoring Hotch’s prior suggestion and sit upright as a slight pang crosses your temples. “I’m going to take some leave when we get back to Quantico.” You tell Hotch, watching as he nods.

“I think it’s for the best, Y/L/N.” He responds, catching the sight of your leg bouncing for a moment before you rest your hand on your thigh, forcing it to remain still.

“I know I’m due for a lecture, and a debriefing about the mission,” You hold back the urge to sigh, but Hotch beats you to it as a heavy sigh leaves his lips, causing you to smile.

The sight of a smile crossing your face is too contagious at the moment between you both. “We can talk more when we’re back. For now, I think it’s best if we just got you home in one piece.” Hotch stands up and hovers beside you, his arm extended as you gratefully accept.

“Thanks, Hotch.” You smile softly up to him as you exit the sheriff's office and near the rest of your team.

After a series of short questions, you’re all heading towards the jet.

“I couldn’t be happier to go home.” JJ sighs as she rests her head in her hand, looking out at the city as you near the airport.

Sitting beside Hotch in the passenger seat, your eyes glance over to him. “Me too,” You reply, a smile gracing your lips, knowing there’s more yet to be discussed with Hotch, including what he said before you fully woke up. “me too.”

307 notes · View notes

itsnathateasy · 3 years

Note

I demand a part 2 of the uni exchange!eren right now

(But fr pls don't take this as something rude im just joking but for the love of god please do a part2)

full disclosure, this story wasn't supposed to have a second part BUT i think this is what went down afterwards!

and no worries love, i know you meant good! thanks for clarifying it tho! <3

me: let’s not go overboard with this also me: writes a second part that is longer than its original version :/

read part 1 of the uni exchange student!eren

word count: 689

warnings: none exept for heartache

it’s been a couple of days since you accidentally met eren on the streets and you can’t shake his lovely memory out of your head, you can’t help but reminisce what you two had and its inevitable ending

not uni exchange student!eren was the same but, of course, there’s no way either of you could know the other person’s feelings and thoughts

you decide to take action by first checking to see if the social media platforms of his still exist and are active

some accounts were deleted but luckily he still had the same phone number so he appeared on a messaging app, a green circle next to his contact

not seeing how or why it’d be weird to talk to him after all these years, you click his contact and start typing

“hi! how are you? i hope everything’s working out for you! i was just wondering, i’m in (name of town) for holiday, any chance you’re around? would love to catch up over a cup of coffee! no pressure ofc! take care! x”

“this is y/n btw, from uni (in case you don’t have my number anymore)”

eren’s face lights up when he sees this notif, he’d never deleted your number, he just never could. the fact that you took the initiative to text him gave him the sign that he needed to reach back

“hello! of course! meet me by the (name of monument) at noon? coffee’s on me!”

you guys do meet a few hours later and it’s WOW

you literally stare at each other for a good while, smiling and giggling at each other

eren touches the back of his neck with his hand, obviously too awkward to say a word

you break the silence with a hug first, before adding “it’s been such a long time, i don’t know where to begin! how was your day?”

your question stirred up some talking while you were walking together to a cafeteria that was close by

he briefed you about finishing his studies, getting his first job that he quitted (because his boss was a dick, he claimed, but you took that with a pinch of salt, knowing it’s eren we’re talking about), he’d been saving for a few years though and started his own business, a small restaurant with dishes from all over the world that he promised to take you the following day

you were skilfully avoiding the subject of relationships, but he brought it up, asking you what your situation was

you’d been in a long, yet toxic relationship that finally took its toll on you. you were now broken up and happy about it, thus gifting yourself a few days off in this beautiful city

he, on the other hand, had been dating this person on and off, for a few years, it was a confusing situation were things weren’t too serious but they also weren’t a friends with benefits thing, he didn’t seem to mind talking about it much tho so he filled you in with how they were, in fact, not at their prime currently

you’d already spent about 4 hours together, mainly catching up and him showing you around town

your catching up session was close to its end and you felt the air between you get awkward again

“so, lunch tomorrow, yeah? would love to have you taste my special dish! took your advice and removed the turmeric too”

“i’ll be there, no doubt!” you said and went in for a hug before saying goodbye

as you both pull away, he pulls you in again and gives you a passionate kiss on the lips

you pull back, startled at what just happened, but kiss him back right after

“i wish i could’ve said goodbye like this before leaving you that day” he mumbled not moving further away from your face

“that was 6 years ago eren, don’t dwell on that” you said, not moving away from his embrace either

“not telling you i love you in person has been haunting me ever since”

“it doesn’t have to anymore” you said before giving him one more kiss

#attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #eren #eren jaeger au #eren jaeger #eren yeager #uni exchange student!eren #aot au

19 notes · View notes

angelixzane · 4 years

Text

; Dull Scissors

IIf you've read my old posts, I talked about getting out of my dark hole years ago. Yesterday was one of the lowest point of my life and what triggered it was just a simple task and a like from my my day...from the person who.. well.. Then nagsunod sunod na...Pao & I had a fight, I became so stressed w/everything I wanted to end my life right there and then. Ganun lang. To those people who don't understand, depression or ptsd is not as simple as "arte" lang. Sometimes, even the smallest thing can trigger it and ang hirap nya labanan. I was scared w/my actions yesterday I was surprised I was able to finish my shift. I think working from home helped...I didnt need to face other people and I can lock myself in our home office.

Yesterday, sa sobrang blangko ng utak ko, I went to the other room and grabbed my scissors. I was looking for my cutter w/c I normally put sa tabi ng mga paint brushes ko pero for some reason wala dun. Pao was in our sala, nagpapalamig and I felt so alone so naghanap ako ng something to hold. I wanted to harm myself. Nung hawak ko na yung scissors na alam kong matalas kasi I only use it for my hair, di sya makasugat kahit ilang beses ko gawin. All that's left right now are scars na parang gasgas.

I was waiting for my arms to bleed. Then I locked myself in our room, I prayed.. I was asking myself why I loved the thought of hurting myself. Siops was knocking outside but I know he can see me and what Im doing through the cctv na nakalagay sa dresser namin. I prayed.. sabi ko "Lord, alam kong ayaw mo to. Everytime na papasok to sa isip ko pls help me. Like today, give me a sign. Tulad nung mapurol na gunting..pls try to stop me and help me move on"

I was so disappointed w/myself. I've been working hard pero tulad nga nung sabi nung psych, talagang may relapses but what's important is tina try mo ayusin ulit. And I am so sorry, self. I failed you again.

Pao sent a msg to my boss asking for a time off for me...I appreciated that. Ty,love.I am constantly speaking w/someone for couselling. I know I needed help since I am sad, depressed all the time. The thing about PTSD is di sya nawawala agad no matter how many years has passed. IT WOULD REALLY HAUNT YOU. Kelangan talaga na strong ka and support system mo to be able to get over it. I remember telling my cousellor “ tong nangyare sakin? why won’t it go away? I want to move on. I want to get over it for my family. I dont want to end up like them. (like kate spade etc) “ and she said na its okay to ask for help when you know you need one. Di lahat strong lagi. With the knd of past i had, di sya ganun kadali. I get easily affected sa mga news, posts ,rape/harrassment jokes, na nakikita ko. I am posting this kasi I want people to understand na it really takes time. hindi dahil nangyari sya 20 something years ago e makakalimutan mo na agad. Kaya nga trauma e. I have forgiven them, but I think ang di ko pa napapatwad is yung sarili ko and that’s what Im currently working on. I blame myself for not speaking up agad. I couldve prevented it from happening ng paulit ulit. But sabi nga sakin, that probably, at that time yun yung mas hiningi nung time na yun. I was so young, I didn’t know what to do or how to ask for help. All I did was to try and fight and stop it from happening. Why me diba? pero syempre diko din naman gugustuin na sa iba pa to mangyari.

Hay. Anyway, this post is too long. I just want to throw my emotions away and detach myself from it. Like what Morrie in tuesdays w/morrie said.

Detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate you fully. That's how you are able to leave it. “Don't cling to things because everything is impermanent.”

Pag nakita nyo ko, hug nyo ako ha!

and dear self,

Kaya mo yan. wala kang choice. <3

dear God,

Thank you.

0 notes

brandon-lee-hayes-blog · 4 years

Text

“The graves are dug up again. I guess that’s no surprise. I always have to do my job twice. Bury the dead, then bury them again. Don’t worry. They aren’t coming back. This isn’t a story where the undead claw their way back to the land of the living. You don’t have to go running to your friends crying that the grave digger has an army of the dead at his command. I know what they say about me. The whole town has rumors about my family.”

The boy looked at me bewildered. Frightened. He couldn’t be more than fourteen.

“Let me rewind” I told him. “So you can understand what I want”

When I was a young boy my father took care of this graveyard, like his father and the ones before him. My ancestors found that the graves of the dead were always dug up the same night they were buried. After being buried for the second time they were never touched again.

Grave robbers they thought, yet no valuables were ever taken. The bodies were never tampered with. Curiosity filled some, fear filled the others. The ones that were stricken with fear decided to seal the graves with cement. They thought the dead were trying to walk again. The cement would be bored clean through; the graves would be dug up either way.

A party formed one night. They were to put an end to this.

Fog rolled in as my ancestors waited. They’d been delivered a corpse; they delivered it to the dirt. Most expected to come across a group of people playing some sick joke. Maybe grave robbers looking for something in particular. Others thought they would come across the dead.

They weren’t so wrong.

What they found as far as anyone knows isn’t living or dead, it just is. Something came in the night and dug up the grave. It was described to me by my father as a shadowy mist drifting ever so slightly above the ground, a dark widow’s veil swirled and twisted around it. A shovel chained to nothing, dragging along as it skulked towards the grave.

They watched as this figure dug up the grave and went in. Time passed slowly. It returned from the hole and drifted away back through the fog. From that point on it was not spoken of.

A silent agreement between us. It digs up the dead, we bury them again.

I first saw it as a young man. Ironically, at fourteen. Chills shook my entire being as I saw it wading past tombstones to a fresh grave. It looked like a blur to me. Like someone’s face censored on a TV, but it had a shovel and a widow’s veil.

I thought my father was simply trying to scare me with ghost stories at the time. I copped some beers from my dad’s mini fridge in the garage. Brought a cute girl named Beverly to the graveyard. She was older. I felt so cool.

It was a stupid idea. I told her about how my family owns the graveyard. I told her about the stupid stories that my dad told me. The ones about the graves being dug up. She loved it, wanted to go and see for herself. It was all a joke of course, banter. Neither of us thought we were really going to see a ghost dig up some graves.

A funeral was scheduled and I let her know. We’d be going out the night of the burial.

Oh how we laughed in the days leading up to it.

“A romantic date with the dead.” We’d joke when we saw each other at school.

I’m not sure what I expected to happen that night. A kiss, maybe. Maybe we’d fall in love in a graveyard. Maybe someone wouldn’t think my family and I were the weirdos of the town.

No one kissed. No one fell in love.

We ended up sitting next to one another awkwardly sipping warm beers. It was hard to talk. It felt weird being alone with her outside of school. Before we knew it the fog came.

I saw it.

We both saw it.

The thing is, anyone who sees it doesn’t live very long. She was dead in two days.

This doesn’t apply to my family of course. Whatever this thing does with these corpses, I’m not sure. It needs us. That’s what I think. That’s why we don’t die. We put the bodies in the ground for it.

I’ll never forget Beverly’s funeral. Seeing her grave filled knowing I would finish the job later that night. I owed her that much.

I did a lot of research after I buried her. I wanted to know what it was. I had to know what it was doing with the bodies. I believe what we have here is a Psychopomp. A being that guides the dead’s souls to the afterlife.

I watch it a lot these days. The feeling of terror left me after the first few times. It doesn’t even seem to register my existence. It does its work and leaves. A job well done.

No one in my family is left. I never found anyone after Beverly. I can’t after what happened to her. That memory haunts me nearly every night as I watch what I now call “The Pomp” dig up the dead.

My mother and father died the next summer, the one after Beverly. My mother got sick and it all went downhill fast. My father killed himself a few weeks later. You think burying your loved ones once is hard? The second time is even harder.

I don’t blame my father. Being the keeper of this place will tear anyone’s mind apart. The nightmares of the dead calling out and begging you to help them come every night. You wake up, sheets drenched in sweat. For the slightest moment you can see The Pomp in the corner of your eye. It’s impossible to move. You’re paralyzed. You try to speak or cry for help. There’s nothing in your lungs. No matter how hard you try to scream nothing comes out of your open mouth. It stands in your room holding a shovel commanding you to bury more dead.

Finally, you break free from your paralysis, eyes darting across the room, looking to see if something is actually there. It’s gone. You’re left questioning yourself. Does it visit me every night, or am I dreaming?

“Do you understand?” I asked the boy

“Pl- please just let me go home” He’s stuttering. Almost crying.

“Do you understand what I want?” I ask again.

“No. I just want to leave. Please I didn’t do anything”

Gazing out of the small hut that I call a home, looking at hollow ground. A burial waiting to happen.

“You should have thought of that before you decided to impress your friends by running through ‘The Lunatics’ graveyard.” I said.

“It was just a dumb joke. A dare!” He sobbed.

A dumb joke. Look where that got me.

“I just want to understand what it wants. The Pomp. What does it do? What is it here for?” I said to him. More of a question to myself.

“I need you to do something for me. I am going to take you to a grave that I dug earlier today. I want you to bury me alive. I will never know what it is until I do that. I have thought about this for most of my life. I’m tired of doing this. I don’t want to do as my father did. If I’m going to kill myself, I’d rather die with questions answered.”

I could make no sense of the boy’s face. There was no response he could muster other than a low “No.”

“If you don’t do it I will take this pickaxe and shove it through your skull.” My hand found the pick. Scraping it across the wooden floor and up into my hands.

Blood ran away from his cheeks. “Show me the grave.” He said, still hesitating.

I didn’t think it would be that easy. I wouldn’t kill the kid of course. I need him alive. I can’t go through with the plan if I don’t have him. Still, I have to give the boy some respect, still thinking of right and wrong after being kidnapped by a man who clearly has no sanity left.

The grave wasn’t quite six-feet deep but it was close enough. An empty casket lay there, open, beckoning a new soul to be swallowed.

“Sorry kid” I said, picking up the shovel.

He fell hard. Didn’t even see it coming. The boy landed right in the casket, unconscious. I jumped into the ditch. Blood ran down the back of his head, splitting like a river at his neck. My fingers felt for a pulse. Still pumping, still alive. Slamming the casket shut and locking it I climbed out of the hole. Slowly, I filled it back in. The sun was setting; I didn’t have much time.

I was almost done when I heard muffled banging and crying from the casket. Looks like he’ll be awake for it after all, good. If it doesn’t kill him he can tell me what he saw. If it kills him, well, graveyards are for the dead.

So I waited, my heart racing. What would it do when it came across the living in a place for the dead? I was afraid it wouldn’t come at all. That it knew the game I was playing.

I was dozing off when the fog came. I looked at my watch. Two and a half hours had passed. The boy probably had enough air for another hour or two.

I heard a chain rattling. It was getting closer. Then it came from the fog and stopped at the grave, examining it. The Pomp, for the first time, looked at me.

“It knows” I thought to myself. I could feel my hand getting jittery, slowly arriving at full blown shakes.

It stared at me. Everything about it seemed so vivid, it wanted me to see it. Nothing about The Pomp was a blur. I saw the tattered black robes. A dark mist drifted out from its veil and sucked back in. Yellowish green eyes opened seemingly from everywhere inside that veil. My skin burned and itched from the gaze of thousands of eyes.

It was going to kill me.

Then it turned back toward the grave. A hand of mist swirled out of the veil and took hold of the shovel. The Pomp started digging and digging as it always did. When it got to the casket it couldn’t open it. It slammed at the lock as muffled screams came from inside. It could hear the screaming and pounding. It looked at me again, only the top of the veil visible from the grave. I could feel that it was furious. The thousands of eyes telling me I was dead if it found life in that casket. I prayed that the boy had suffocated in there. That he was actually dead by now. The urge to know what The Pomp does in those graves was completely gone.

The lock broke and the casket opened. The screaming stopped, The Pomp stared into the casket. The boy lay there, unfortunately still living. It left the grave and came right at me. I saw the boy climbing from the dirt and running for the graveyards exit.

Good luck kid, you saw it already. Tell your friends that the crazy grave digger buried you alive, if you live long enough to get it out of your mouth.

I pushed myself out of my chair and fell flat on my stomach. I couldn’t move or speak. I felt like I did every night, paralyzed, wondering if it was watching me from the darkness. Through the corner of my eye I could see a mist growing larger, closer. I gave every ounce of energy I had to moving my fingers. If I could get them working. If I could start crawling away…

They wouldn’t move. My mouth opened to yell for help and nothing would come out.

A shovel stabbed deep into my back. I couldn’t even scream in pain. I was dragged by it to the empty grave. A dark mist swallowed me and threw me in. The casket was warm. The Pomp climbed into the grave, hovering above me. My skin felt like it was melting away. Mist seeped through my eyes, flowed up my nose, through my ears and mouth. It seeped into every pore I had.

Every memory of my life flashed by in seconds. It was living them in my shoes. It wasn’t a Psychopomp. It didn’t bring the souls of the dead to the afterlife. It feasted on their souls. It waited until your body was dead and defenseless before it took you. It lived by consuming every memory you have, every memory I have, until there’s nothing left.

I felt myself fade away until I was nothing more than another pair of eyes.

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #amwriting #horror #flash fiction #short story #short stories #fiction #writblr #creepypasta #suspensestories #blhwrites

0 notes