Clawing Dark
This was originally used as the rebirth of a vampire. I'm thinking it works better as a stand alone zombie bit from the dead's point of view.
Dark.
It's dark.
Dig. Dig deep?
No, dig up.
I'm suffocating! I'm dying! Someone help me, please.
Help.
Scream, open your mouth to scream.
Dirt.
I can taste dirt. It's inside me, everywhere. It's everywhere.
Panic. Terror. I can feel it start at my fingertips, fists opening to clawed hands.
I can't breath. I can't breathe. Where am I? What happened to me?
An ache, The Ache, not since...not since...I'm dying.
Driven. A railroad stake, driven through my body, the aching in my being.
I can't move.
I can't fucking move.
Not an option. No option. I'm aware, when I wasn't before. Where did I end? Now? Have I just now begun? Horror, like a warm bath, accepting horror, even more terrifying than fighting against it.
Air. I need air.
You're dead!
Air.
Dead.
Hands reaching upwards, earth crumbling, shattering around me.
Ascention, dying.
No. No.
There are others. A hand, not mine, holding me, clutching.
Let go! No! Let GO!
The earth is teeming with us. The ground seething with a darkness threatening to erupt. I can feel it like the stir of evil lying beneath the surface of my skin. My own skin, like thin wrapping paper.
An early christmas gift.
My screaming? I'm screaming?
No. His.
Ripping, skin beneath my fingernails, tearing. Stop! Stop! Warmth gushes over the tips of my fingers, hitting bone.
Gasping. Silence.
I had to, I had to don't you see. Continue upwards, please, air, light, blood.
Blood?
What am I? I can't remember my beginning, and I can't remember my end. I am present, I am here. Crawl from the womb of the grave, claw my way up. Kill anything in my way. Anything.
No thoughts now, just blood. Blood.
Blood. Gush, thick, warm, ache, suck, fulfill.
Tear, rip. Slice.
From the Outside is Silence. Still air and yet a current of anticipation like a wave of electricity, charging the atmosphere. The earth boils, calm surface breaking, and a hand thrusting through it. Earth caked hand, blood stained hand giving way to a blood stained arm, gleaming in the moonlight. A woman's scream, almost as if extracted from her throat against her will, against the night's will. Erupting from the ground, birthed from the muck and myre of a city, she rises from the very foundations of life. Silver moon's light breaking on her face, pink hair matted and caked with blood and earth. Utter silence suddenly, the wind perhaps through the trees. Waiting. It's coming. It's coming.
The scream again, from the pit of her, from the darkness within, the madness engulfing, overwhelming. Murderer. She remembers now. Murderer! The warmth of the blood calling her from death, bringing her back from the brink of extinction. Something within her has shattered. Emptied, like warm milk from a pitcher spilling onto the floor. Clothes ripped, blood soaked, heart broken. There's little left but the bits of torn skin beneath her fingernails, and the blood of her competitors covering her face. Blood on her hands.
Dark.
It's dark.
Dig. Dig deep?
No, dig up.
I'm suffocating! I'm dying! Someone help me, please.
Help.
Scream, open your mouth to scream.
Dirt.
I can taste dirt. It's inside me, everywhere. It's everywhere.
Panic. Terror. I can feel it start at my fingertips, fists opening to clawed hands.
I can't breath. I can't breathe. Where am I? What happened to me?
An ache, The Ache, not since...not since...I'm dying.
Driven. A railroad stake, driven through my body, the aching in my being.
I can't move.
I can't fucking move.
Not an option. No option. I'm aware, when I wasn't before. Where did I end? Now? Have I just now begun? Horror, like a warm bath, accepting horror, even more terrifying than fighting against it.
Air. I need air.
You're dead!
Air.
Dead.
Hands reaching upwards, earth crumbling, shattering around me.
Ascention, dying.
No. No.
There are others. A hand, not mine, holding me, clutching.
Let go! No! Let GO!
The earth is teeming with us. The ground seething with a darkness threatening to erupt. I can feel it like the stir of evil lying beneath the surface of my skin. My own skin, like thin wrapping paper.
An early christmas gift.
My screaming? I'm screaming?
No. His.
Ripping, skin beneath my fingernails, tearing. Stop! Stop! Warmth gushes over the tips of my fingers, hitting bone.
Gasping. Silence.
I had to, I had to don't you see. Continue upwards, please, air, light, blood.
Blood?
What am I? I can't remember my beginning, and I can't remember my end. I am present, I am here. Crawl from the womb of the grave, claw my way up. Kill anything in my way. Anything.
No thoughts now, just blood. Blood.
Blood. Gush, thick, warm, ache, suck, fulfill.
Tear, rip. Slice.
From the Outside is Silence. Still air and yet a current of anticipation like a wave of electricity, charging the atmosphere. The earth boils, calm surface breaking, and a hand thrusting through it. Earth caked hand, blood stained hand giving way to a blood stained arm, gleaming in the moonlight. A woman's scream, almost as if extracted from her throat against her will, against the night's will. Erupting from the ground, birthed from the muck and myre of a city, she rises from the very foundations of life. Silver moon's light breaking on her face, pink hair matted and caked with blood and earth. Utter silence suddenly, the wind perhaps through the trees. Waiting. It's coming. It's coming.
The scream again, from the pit of her, from the darkness within, the madness engulfing, overwhelming. Murderer. She remembers now. Murderer! The warmth of the blood calling her from death, bringing her back from the brink of extinction. Something within her has shattered. Emptied, like warm milk from a pitcher spilling onto the floor. Clothes ripped, blood soaked, heart broken. There's little left but the bits of torn skin beneath her fingernails, and the blood of her competitors covering her face. Blood on her hands.