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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2000171
A commercial boy is tried of being so normal.
Buried Alive

         Have you ever been buried alive? Don’t tell me you have! It’s terrible. Just as plain as that. The primitive fear and anxiety. You just can’t breathe, man!

         Well, I’ll tell the story of how it came to be that I was six feet under, but be warned, things are never as they seem. The dead may betray you more than the living.



         I was a rather commercial teenage boy, just going about my commercial life in a commercial school. Now like every commercial teenage boy, I wanted change and adventure. Although, how was I to accomplish this? I’ll tell you how! You do commercially stupid things with your commercial teenage friends and you get enough.

         We decided to egg my commercial math teacher’s house. He gave us all ‘F’s on our latest test. Us being: Doug, Randy, Cindy, and myself.

         Oh dear! I forgot to introduce myself, Ryan, pleased to meet you.

         Anyways, we got caught. We were brought to the police station and our commercial parents were called. My parents yelled at me and bickered with each other. Right then I decided, no longer was I to be such a commercial boy!

         I was going to work with the dead! I heard about doing this from the newspaper. Not like mortician, but like interacting with them on a spiritual level. Apparently, people were getting in a lot of trouble by doing this. I was going to the graveyard at midnight to find out what all the fuss was about and perhaps change my fate.

         There I meet them. The people connecting with the dead. They wore black hoods while they chanted. They spotted me from behind the bush. I was dragged out and asked “What the hell are you doing?” So I told them. I was done, put out with my mainstream life. The leader, you could see his mouth from under the hood, smiled. He accepted me as his apprentice. I was seen as rebellious yet honest boy. There, I learned about the possibilities of the dead.

         Then we did it. We were only able to bring them alive mentally and emotionally. Well, we have finally brought one physically alive! I came up with the idea of sacrifices, like I read from the newspaper. It’s surprising that these people never read the paper. We used a small dog that I caught on the way there. I didn't care. This experiment was much more worth while. The one corpse rose. All wrangled and decaying. So we got the idea to raise more till the whole graveyard was active. Up and about, as if they were young once more they walked, sung, and danced. The living joined in. This only lasted until the sun came up. When it rose the bodies dropped. It was all fine but the dead were getting irritable.

         That’s when something terrible happened. One night the dead turned on us. It turns out our research was not thorough enough. The dead, to keep living into the light, must replace themselves with living humans. Before our group slowly began to disperse as the nights progressed. We thought they were fleeing and betraying the organization. Then we saw it.

         We being, Shade and myself. My nickname was, Rover. We saw it. I swear to life and death. Dead #72, ambushed Poison. He knocked her out, drug her into his former grave: Howard McKinley, and buried her.

         Shade and I ran to back to camp to inform the leader, but it was too late. There was a full on battle between life and death. You saw Dead #32 and Dead #60 ganging up on Wish, eventually knocking his head off. Night and Dark were fighting off a crowd of the dead, Night ended up with a knife in his chest.  Kitty and some others which I couldn't recognize, were already being drug off to be replaced in the graves. Our leader, Lord Demise, was fighting Dead #1. He had become the strongest, I have no idea why.

         That’s when I was caught.  Drug back by Dead #16. He was previously a very large man. I did not know the result of the battle.

         I found myself at a tombstone that said: RIP Gary Field. Dirt was thrown in my face. I was buried up to my neck. I tried to struggle and perhaps release myself but no luck. I was going to die. I was going to suffocate! Of all ways to die, suffocation!



         I don’t know how I lived. I woke up in the hospital with a cop beside me. He told me he recognized my shoes, that one was halfway buried. They were just commercial teenage shoes, but they saved me. From what the cop told me, someone called in a disturbance at the graveyard and cops reported. Come daylight, most of the dead were dead again. The living dead were destroyed with a shot in the head. They dug up bodies both alive and dead, and reburied the formerly dead.

         I went back to my commercial home to continue my commercial life as a commercial teenager.
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