"What the…?!"

I shot up quickly from my sleep. I was disorientated, like waking from a strange dream. Where was I? Slowly I drifted back into reality, noticing my surroundings, taking it all in.  It was dark and damp. The smell reminded me of gardening with my grandmother. The smell of the earth.  Mud, worms - the ground.  I was in the ground!

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I panicked, trying to sit up I bumped my head on something hard – it hurt.  My screams reverberated around me.  My thoughts were even louder inside my head. Why was I in the ground? Who had put me here? When did I die? Did someone try to kill me and hide my body? All sorts of scenarios ran through my mind.

I had to get out. I started to kick the lid of my coffin. My coffin? "I'm in a coffin".

It was easy! I sprang out like a jack in a box. I felt so strong. And angry. Rage filled me now. I couldn't think straight. I just wanted to kill someone. Anyone. Why had this happened to me?

I squinted, as I looked around to get my bearings; my eyes getting used to the light.  It was dusk.  I was in a graveyard. I recognised the graveyard. The church. "That's where I used to sing in the choir. And my grandparents are buried here. I'm sure of it".

All around me were people, filling the graveyard. Young and old, men and women. Some looked like they'd stepped out of a history book. Some looked like they'd just stepped out of a horror film. Or out of…the ground! They were dead. The walking dead!  Not only had I been almost murdered and buried alive but now I was in the middle of a graveyard surrounded by what seemed to be zombies. It couldn't be real. I had to be dreaming.

But I wasn't.

"Hang on!" I thought, recollecting the memories of movies I had seen, "if they're zombies then I need to get out of here. They eat the flesh of the living, don't they?"

I started to run forced on by this great red anger inside of my body. I felt able to combat a zombie even if they did catch up to me. But as I stepped forward my leg made a cracking sound and I fell to the ground. I couldn't get up. I mustered all my strength, which there was a lot of – and slowly rose to my feet. But it was too late. The zombies were upon me. Arms swinging out in front of them, eyes wide and insane, mouths watering for my flesh. The first one to get to me was a young woman. The side of her face was missing. Eaten by worms perhaps. She looked ravenous and I was dinner. I closed my eyes ready to take the pain but then…nothing! No pain, no teeth tearing at my flesh, my limbs were still attached. I was alive. They had walked straight past me.

Maybe my luck was in after all.

I watched as they marched on towards a large house. I felt relieved but still I was angry. I felt that the emotion was keeping me strong so I held on to it.

I slowly lifted myself up and started to wobble to my feet. Although I had the strength of an elephant I still felt slightly fragile – rickety, like I might lose an arm. It was probably due to being stuck inside a grave for so long. Dead still. How long was I in there, I wondered.

I got my bearings again. This was definitely the graveyard near my home. I knew the vicar and he lived nearby. If I could get to his house he could call someone.

I marched on. Slowly past the church, over graves – avoiding the open ones. What a strange night. There was a chill in the air and a dark atmosphere. The air smelt dank and musty. I was surrounded by silence. It felt like the end of the world.

I made my way down the path. My body moved slowly. It frustrated me. But at least I was alive. I felt the gravel crunch beneath my feet. Not far to go now. I was glad to be in familiar surroundings.

There was a big wooden gate up ahead. It was always locked at night. I remember as a child I used to climb over it and sit and tell horror stories with my friends. Mine were always the best.

I lifted myself up and hoisted my body over the gate, landing with a thud on the concrete the other side. But I wasn't hurt.

A shrill scream suddenly peirced the silence of the night. It sent shivers through my flesh. I hadn't really thought about where those zombies were going, I was just glad to be away from them. But now, hearing that terrible sound it struck me that they must have got into that big house. Those people, those poor people!!

I had to get help. Not only for myself but for the people in the village. If I recall, zombies don't sleep. They will keep on going until they have wiped out the whole village, spreading their disease and then move on to the next.

I dragged myself up the driveway to the Vicarage. I used to come to Summer fetes here. One year I danced on the lawn with my group of friends for the locals.

I knocked on the large wooden door. I don't know where my strength had come from but I blew a massive hole in it from the power of my fist!

No one answered.

I felt enraged. So I knocked again.

No answer.

I had to get in. If the vicar and his wife weren't home then I could at least use their phone. So I pushed down the door. It was effortless.

I vaguely remembered the layout of the downstairs. I was sure that straight ahead of me there should be a large sitting room where there should be a phone. I went through a door and into the room.

I couldn't believe my eyes. The vicar and his wife were home. They were sitting together on their comfy sofa huddled up in the light of the television. They had ignored my knock at the door. After all I'd been through tonight and they ignored me. Did they have any idea what was happening?!

I was livid. I couldn't speak. My mouth was watering like a rabid dog. I ran towards the vicar. I grabbed him with my strong arms. I wanted to ask him why. Why? I wanted to explain what had happened tonight. But I couldn't speak. Only grunts came out.

His wife was screaming, throwing things at me. How could they treat me like this? It was me. Little Mary. The choir girl, the bullied little girl who the vicar always listened to. He'd buried my grandfather. How could they do this?

I couldn't see. Only red. The vicar was still in my grip, only he didn't look like the vicar any more.

I felt weak and tired…and hungry.

I gripped his arm with my teeth and pulled. A lump of flesh came off. It tasted good. I took another bite and another. I was frenzied. My body felt right again, the red was subsiding. I didn't feel afraid or upset anymore.

I filled up on what I needed and left.

Where to now?

Charlotte Scadeng © 2007