Drabble: Racing The Dead – by Richard Mark Ankers

by specklit

When they rose, I ran. I hurtled through the graveyard skipping over the tombstones like a stone across a pond. Into the streets I raced; they were there. They were everywhere.

There are times when you might fade, capitulate, and that might have been mine. It wasn’t. I was stronger than that.

I turned tale and sped back whence I’d came. Leaping the open coffins, shimmying in silence, I shot back to the one place I always felt safe, and they could do nothing.

“Why won’t you let me be,” I whispered, as my coffin lid slammed shut. “Not ever.”

Author’s Note: I thought it might be scary to not only run from the dead when alive, but when you were dead, too.

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