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Description
John trudged through the soft mud, grumbling about the bitter, cold, autumn, night as his lantern struggled to illuminate the path before him. His thin clothes weren’t exactly preferable to begin with, their quality poor and their simple colors having long since faded into a drab shade that accompanied his impoverished life, but he had no choice in the matter. His thicker clothes needed mending and he hadn’t had the time for such things when he had to work at any job he could wrangle up that would tolerate such a wretched-looking figure as he. Luckily enough, a new graveyard keeper and sitter was needed in the local village of Salford, and while the pay was small if said by a polite individual, the village also provided lodgings and food which made it more than enticing for the wandering beggar.

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After entering the village, he asked the first villager about the job position, being directed to an elderly man with graying hair, setting in a simple yet well crafted wooden chair beside a crate. As he approached, the elder looked at John and smiled as he spoke with a cheery voice, “Hello there traveler, I take it that you need to ask me about something?”
“Well yes sir.” John said, attempting to sound respectful though his tried state made his voice sound more tired if anything. “I wanted to ask about your job about a graveyard keeper?”

The moment John finished his question, the elderly man’s pleasant expression faded, turning serious and grim before the man rose from his seat. “The job is available.” he said as he leaned down over the crate, the sound of glass, wood, and metal striking one another sounding as he fumbled through the its contents. “I must say that you have arrived quite late though. You’ll have to leave immediately in you want to reach the graveyard before nightfall.”

“So I have the job?”The man paused for a moment, John hearing a sigh that conveyed a mixture of sorrow and pity before the man rose and turned to John, thrusting a leather pack into his arms along with a rusty shovel.

“You’ll find the keys, a lantern, and oil inside the bag. You’ll also find a piece of parchment that has the prayer of the Archangel Michael. Stuff it into your shirt and over your heart.”

“Stuff it down my shirt and over my heart? That just sounds ridic-“

“Do not question my instructions!” the man shouted angrily, John jumping back reflexively. The man looked at John as though he was common scum before turning to the side, coughing before speaking in a hoarse voice, “My apologies, I get excited rather easily in my old age. The act of having a copy of the prayer of the Archangel Michael be pressed against your heart is a local tradition for those who work far from home during the night. It offers protection from those who would mean to do you harm so as long as one keeps it on their person. ”

“Oh I see sir. My apologies if I insulted you.” John said apologetically as he shuffled the weight on his hands and arms to free his right hand, using it to search the bag for the parchment before slipping it down his shirt and over his heart. “Is there anything else I should kn-“

Before he could finish asking his question, John found himself being pushed through the town toward its edge by the old man who said to him as he shoved John along “You should be all set now and I do believe that you have quite a walk in store for you and should get going if you want to avoid be caught outside the graveyard in the dark. Just take the path that starts on the edge of the village and follow it into the valley and you’ll find the graveyard. Now get moving!” With that, the man turned around and briskly walked back to his chair, John doing nothing for a moment as he tried to put together what had just happened before noticing the sun was indeed just setting over the horizon, John cursing his lack of attention as he set off into a run towards his appointed chore.

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The sun soon dove beyond the horizon and John found himself forced to light his lantern, holding it in front of himself as he followed the rather faint path which he assumed was the path into the valley. With the sun’s exit, the entire landscape had quickly become enveloped in a shroud of darkness whose cold was biting through John’s thin clothing. As John, brought the lantern closer to himself in order to savor its warmth, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dreadful unease. His lantern, despite the small heat it offered, only could cast a feeble halo of light around itself leaving the darkness to cling around its edges as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and extinguish what had dared to interrupt this colorless scene with its very presence.

After walking further into the inky blackness, John stopped as he saw the path cease just before two imposing iron gates, their night granting them an intimidating appearance similar to a cruel sentinel that judged everyone in a harsh light. At that moment, John felt something within himself, an urge that demanded him to leave. Within him, he could feel his mind and soul crying out in silent panic for his body to turn around and to leave that place behind and never return as matter how much money and service the village could pay him, it could not possibly be worth tending to this place, this graveyard in the absolute dead of the night. However, as if to argue back, his stomach ached, complaining of the lack of food apart from the scraps that he was able to gather from some trash heap a few days ago. The body demanded sustenance and was not afraid of letting it be known especially when the chance of food and a relatively warm bed was only one night away, one night of uncomfortable unease for a morning of satisfaction and satiation. John groaned, bemoaning his situation before he took out the keys from his bag and shoved one into the lock.

Luckily enough, the first key he tried was the correct one as lock groaned, the key sliding into the chamber easily. John made a motion to turn the key by as it turned halfway, he was met with sudden resistance from the lock which refused the key from moving any further. “Oh come now, open up!” he gruffly muttered as his frigid fingers fought against the lock. The key slowly began to turn before the lock snapped open loudly, almost in a way that resembled a bark, as the gate sudden swung completely open without something to keep to it place. The iron smashed against the stone wall beside it, producing an almost unnatural crashing sound as the silence was shattered abruptly. John felt his heart pulse wildly against his chest, John leaning forward at the sudden internal change as he begin to struggle to breath. John felt himself panicking, quickly trying to readjust his breathing as he hit his fisted left hand against his chest as though to chastise his own cowardice. In a few moments, his heart began to beat more steadily as he breathing resumed its normal pattern, the silence returning to replace the void of sound. Without another thought, John quickly walked inside, slamming the gate behind himself, his frustration and annoyance apparent; as he moved on, the faint glow of the lantern illuminating the scene before him.

The graveyard, despite its borders being surrounded by an atmosphere of anxiety, was quite pleasant compared to the other graveyards he had seen. The grass was trimmed with care, each gravestone seemed smooth and detailed with the names, age, and final words of the deceased etched onto them as each headstone was lined in a neat row with a path between each row to allow for access. From a glance, he could see some of them adorned with the safety devices for which he was hired for, small brass bells that hung on the top of a gravestone and small brass tubes which had a special covering over it to prevent insects and water from getting in while also letting in precious air. They were essential devices to ensure no one would be buried alive by mistake, but John largely ignored them. They were mere trinkets of people who feared death which no doubt was easy to determine at a mere glance. His state of poverty had constantly pitted him against death and by no means was he afraid of it nor was he going to accept his own end quietly.

Besides the graveyard stood the grounds of the local church, which looked well made and well-decorated from the outside. As the moonlight began to peer out from behind the nightly clouded skies, John could see several elaborate stain-glass images of Christ and the saints adorning the sides of the moderately-sized stone building as well as a bell tower holding a large brass bell that looked worn from use and age. The large holy building almost resembled a shepherd looking over his flock in a hostile world, the idea offering him a sense of comfort as the moonlight helped cast away the shadows that plagued his heart and mind. He turned away from the church and began his task of walking bout the many rows of the cemetery and inspecting the safety devices on the graves.

He meandered about the various graves aimlessly for some time before he made a makeshift shelter within some bushes planted near the church end of the graveyard to keep warm with the lantern. He would have to apologize for making such a mess come the morning. Still, considering how the cold was constantly seeping into his bones, his shivering limbs and chattering teeth were more than enough justification for where he currently stood on the matter. He switched between staying in his shelter and wandering the grounds periodically, every trip outside becoming more and more difficult for him to accomplish as the moderate warmth of the lantern insulated by the leaves of the bush made his situation somewhat tolerable in comparison to what laid outside in the graveyard. He wasn’t even carrying his shovel anymore, considering it to be dead weight which he left outside the bushes as he made his ever shortening patrols. No one was going to be waking up within their buried coffins. The bells would not ring in protest of death, and no voices would be heard screaming for aid from the darkness that enveloped them. His job was going to be an easy one tonight. John sighed in relief, stretching out while not noticing how his movement pushed the parchment out of his shirt. It fluttering sound it made as it fell from the collar of his shirt caused him to look down just in time to see the parchment get picked up by the wind which began to carry it away from him.

John grabbed the lanterns handle as he jumped to his feet, emerging from the bushes with one outstretched arm that was swiping at the air in an attempt to snatch the parchment back from the hands of the wind. Even though the parchment hadn’t done much for him except make him feel somewhat uncomfortable at times, John presumed that if he didn’t have it on him when he went back into the town to collect his pay that he would surely be chastised by the old man or worse, fired from what would then become his one night stand. John could not allow that to happen, his legs propelling him forward after the wayward parchment until he felt his outstretched hand touch it. With one last burst of strength, he leap forward only to close his fingers around frigid air as he fell over onto the earth. He grunted as he hit the ground, moaning at the impact before turning his head up, the undamaged lantern’s light showing one last glimpse of the parchment as it flew over the cemetery’s wall and into the night. John pounded the earth in frustration for a moment before he began to get up so he could start and search for the parchment when he heard something..

“Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?” said a feminine voice which sounded terrified and hoarse as though the voice had been crying out for some time. John paused before quickly shining his light around himself, finding nothing around him.

“Somebody? Anybody? Please help me! Help me please!” the voice cried out again, this time John turning to the direction of the voice, noticing a pipe springing from the ground. He kneeled down on one knee, his head close to the pipe before he spoke.

“Hello?”

With that, a cheer of joy sounded from the pipe mixed in with what could only be described as someone sobbing out of sheer happiness. “Someone is here at last! Please help! Please, I beg of you! Save me from this tomb!” said the voice of the woman, her voice trembling with anticipation and desperation. John could hardly believe it but from the sound of it, he was in one hell of a situation. He was certain that this sort of thing never happened and was only occurred in the gossip that he only heard among those who ignored him and his pleas of mercy and goodwill as he begged. Still, gossip didn’t change the fact that a woman was definitely down there in the darkness of a coffin.

He leaned closer to the pipe’s opening, saying in as much of calm and composed voice as he could muster while being so cold, “Don’t you fret now ma’am. I’ll get you out of there as-“

“Oh thank you good sir! Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you,” she interrupted, the woman repeating her phrase of gratitude on and on it was a chant that she thought would ensure her salvation from whatever hell she currently was within. He hovered over the pipe for every second of it as he felt it would be dangerous for him to leave to retrieve his shovel without telling him lest she panic. She continued to repeat her phrase, her words becoming more calm and pleasant-sounding with each iteration, he former strained voice fading into a memory for John. He had to admit that her voice had a sort of charm to it. Through her voice, he could almost imagine her as being quite fair and beautiful. He sighed in imaginative delight, his eyes wandering over to the gravestone behind the pipe addressed for a Lily Deux. Realizing he was staring at a gravestone however, his mind was shaken from such thoughts of fancy.

“I’m sorry to cut you off Ms. Deux but I need to retrieve my shovel to dig you out.”Lily’s voice went silent for a moment before speaking again in a tone that hinted guilt.

“Oh right! I’m so sorry I was just so caught up with someone finally being able to save me! My apologies!”

“Ms. Deux, I don’t believe you have to apologize for anything considering your situation.” Lily’s could be heard eliciting a small chuckle at his words, John smiling the moment he heard it.

“I suppose I don’t! I will thank you properly though once I get out of her though, believe that Mr…uh…” he voiced trailed off, uncertainty obvious in her voice as John helped her, his tone becoming more relaxed.

“Hampshire, Ms. Deux. John Hampshire is my name.”

“Well thank you for telling me your name than John.” Lily said. “And you can just call me Lily if you want though I really can’t stop from calling me whatever you want anyway considering where I am right now,” she added, John letting out a small chortle at the comment before stopping himself. He had to be serious right now and dig her up.

“Alright tan, whatever you say Lily. I’ll be back in a second though.”

“Okay than John, just don’t take too long!”

With that being said, John rushed from the gravestone and went to back the bushes to retrieve his shovel. There, he went to where he had dropped the shovel only to find that the shovel was missing from its spot. “Odd. I thought I left it the-”

In that moment, he heard a loud growling sound coming from right behind him, John freezing in spot. He dared not move lest the creature behind him become provoked by any sudden movements and thus attack him, feeling warm and labored breath all across his back. Whatever it was, it had to be large for its breath to be able to warm up his entire backside along with the edges of his chest. He dared not turn back to see what it was for a full minute before he slowly began to inch his head to his right side to face whatever manner of animal stood between him and the task at hand.

The light from his lantern illuminated the dark shape behind him with terrifying detail. It was a large black dog, the entity being over half as tall as he was and just as wide, it’s teeth as large as steak knives and it’s eyes glowing red are hot coals, eyes which stared directly into his own as it let out another growl albeit a muffled one. The reason why it let out such a restrained snarl was because of what it had in between its threatening teeth, John’s shovel.

“John?” John heard Lily shout faintly in the distance from her pipe. Lily was probably wondering if John was still there or not. The moment that she spoke however, the dog rushed forward, the metal spade hitting John square in the chest and knocking him over as it passed by. John coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself up, turning in time to see the creature sit down by the side of the graveyard that sat beside the gate that lead to the church, the shovel still in its mouth, staring directly at him with ominous eyes.

“Damn it! Damn that beast to hell!” he muttered under his breath, worried that Lily would find offense if she heard him said it any louder. He thought he heard a chuckle coming from the tube although he ignored it, picking up his lantern before he proceeded toward the monstrosity while holding the light in front of him as if it was a shield against the malevolent entity that would dare interrupt his attempt to save the innocent and beautiful Lily.

As he approached the obsidian coated monster, the beast itself began to walk away from him at a pace matching his movements while it maintained eye contact with John with its eyes aglow with what could only be described as hellfire. It was purposely avoiding him and did not want him to reach the shovel, the dog growling at him continuously in warning against John. John ignored its attempts to scare him off and continued his steady march, matching the dog’s gaze with his own, hoping that such an act would in turn intimidate the beast in turn. The beast did not seem to care however as it continued to circle around the cemetery, taking care not to step on any of the gravestones and keeping only to the paths.

“Blast it! Stand still!” John cried out with annoyance dripping from the tone of his words. The thing wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to attempt to grab a section of the shovel that wasn’t lodged within the thing’s jaws although even then, he had severe doubts that he could even wretch the tool away from its maw, not with the thing sporting teeth like that. Something had to be done and soon as even though the girl could wait for help, he doubted that any of the villagers would help with a beast in the graveyard and then again, who was to say that the beast couldn’t somehow dig to the woman and devour her? As unlikely as it seemed, its size made it possible and anything with eyes so abnormal as it was certainly not a normal animal.

He and the animal continued to move in what could only be described as a game of cat and mouse with neither side definitively taking the role of the cat or the role of the mouse. It was frustrating to say in the least. As the duo continued their futile dance for a simple stick with metal on the tip of it, John began to look around for something, anything that he could throw at the creature and hurt it, hoping that when hurt it would let out a sound of pain and thus release its grip on the shovel. As he circled about, he soon noticed a small stone on his right side on the grass, the stone about the size of his fist with a rough texture on it. It would be the perfect item to throw at the demon. He stopped moving, the thing doing the same although it soon lowered slightly, baring it’s teeth and it’s growling growing louder to where it was a borderline roar and it’s eyes turning from a hellish red to what could be only be described as an deathly black with blazing sparks of orange and red flickering across the iris. John felt hesitant looking at the creature now, his body seizing up as the creature no longer stared into his eyes. Rather, the beast now seemed to be staring right into his very soul, judging him and everything he ever did and would so, silently from afar.

John and the beast stood there, one frozen and the other silent. The two seemed to be engaged in a stalemate which was increasingly shifting in favor of the creature as John’s eyes began to quiver and his expression began to falter from one of bravery to that of uncertainty and terror. The beast let off a sound which John could only interpret to be a chortle as it took John’s wavering stance to be victory, slowly sauntering toward the petrified man. John could only whimper as the beast’s eyes scanned over him as it walked right beneath him, even after it let open its mouth and allowed the shovel fall to the ground with a clang. John was too paralyzed with fear and disgust to move or even consider the shovel as he smelled the necrotic stench from the creature’s lips, a stench of both sickly death and morbid decay. John felt bile rise in his throat. He was helpless; the black dog starting to move ever closer to his fallen position its open mouth around John’s left foot when he heard Lily shout, “JOHN HELP ME!”

That voice, that divine voice which one could not help but feel devoted too, dominated his mind and filled him with a warmth that destroyed the fear within him, his head moving to face the dog who took notice. It quickly tried to clamp its mouth over his foot but John dashed his leg backward from the creature. The creature only snatched a mouthful of air, quickly moving forward to try again. It was interrupted as its teeth met with the same foot that it had tried to bite as John kicked it with all his might. The dog, despite its size, felt surprisingly light to John as he sent it flying into the air yipping in pain as it proceeded to soar backward several feet before it hit the ground, its form sprawling in a heap of fur and limb. Whimpering could be heard coming from it before it became silent.

Without waiting, dropped the lantern and seized the shovel with both hands before sprinting toward Lily’s grave, thrusting the shovel into the ground ahead of himself before grinding to a halt, immediately starting to throw dirt everywhere around himself.

“John is that you? Yes John, hurry, hurry!” said Lily, her voice ecstatic even though her words were slightly muffled as he heard sobbing. Her happiness made him feel invigorated despite all that happened to him. Her voice and her safety were all that mattered as he continued to dig down toward the coffin. His strength itself seemed to be magnified by the rapture she conveyed as she shouted, “Closer! You’re getting closer! Hurry! Hurry!”

His arms seemed to pitch far more dirt then what he normally could be expected to, his speed almost equal to three men combined! He thrust his shovel once more into the dirt, the metal of the spade resounding as he struck something solid, something wooden. Lily’s voice grew even louder, her voice being the only thing he imagined at that point as he shoved aside the dirt covering the sides of the coffin. With that done, he raised his shovel above his head, readying himself to smash the lower left side of the wooden prison to break Lily and her enchanting voice out from the confinement of the darkness they was sealed within!

Before he could deliver the blow though, John heard a loud and resounding bark which drove away the sound of Lily’s sweet voice, leaving John’s arms stiff. Without her voice, he was stunned, caught within a daze as he looked up from the small pit he created to seek its source. He saw the black dog peering over the gravestone with a grim and forlorn expression donning its muzzle, the bell hanging beside it to its right, the tube, still connected to the coffin, standing beneath it.

Lily’s voice screamed the word “NO!” with a inhuman screech that was both shrill and piercing as the dog raised his right paw and rang the brass bell. John heard a small and beautiful chime as the bell rung and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. For a moment, everything seemed to be at peace as the chime sounded throughout the graveyard. Just as quickly and suddenly as it had appeared though, this peace was broken as from the coffin, an anguished wail that conveyed excruciating agony was released. It was so powerful that the lid of the coffin itself rose in the middle and on the edges almost as if swelling with anger. The only thing that kept the lid sealed on the pine box was the iron nails used to bolt shut although they too strained as they struggled to continue their appointed task. John was forced to his knees as the coffin buckled beneath him, John struggling to keep his balance as he his hands desperately attempted to block out the sound of true suffering that raked his entire body. His teeth grinded against one another, his body contracted into a fetal position, his sight became blurry and hazy before he closed them, and his fingernails dug so furiously into his head that small pools of crimson formed beneath them as his mind screamed for release from the pressure pressed onto it.

As if in answer to his call for reprieve, the pain stopped. The screaming stopped. The chaos around John seemed to have settled at long last. John, shaken and whimpering softly opened his eyes slightly. Everything was muddled in his vision as he peered around himself although his sight soon began to recover bit by bit. After a few moments, his sight was clear enough for him to see that he was still within the confines of the pit that he had constructed in haste and that the coffin lid that he was lying on, while still on, had an large an unusual bulge protruding from the center of the coffin, extending to its sides. The black dog was also nowhere to be seen and Lily’s voice could no longer be heard from either the pipe or the coffin. All that could be heard however was the fluttering of a piece of parchment, which had the prayer of the Archangel Michael written on it, that propped itself against the gravestone of Lily Deux who was twenty-two years old at the time of her death, a time which had long since passed having been three years ago…

Description
John trudged through the soft mud, grumbling about the bitter, cold, autumn, night as his lantern struggled to illuminate the path before him. His thin clothes weren’t exactly preferable to begin with, their quality poor and their simple colors having long since faded into a drab shade that accompanied his impoverished life, but he had no choice in the matter. His thicker clothes needed mending and he hadn’t had the time for such things when he had to work at any job he could wrangle up that would tolerate such a wretched-looking figure as he. Luckily enough, a new graveyard keeper and sitter was needed in the local village of Salford, and while the pay was small if said by a polite individual, the village also provided lodgings and food which made it more than enticing for the wandering beggar.

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After entering the village, he asked the first villager about the job position, being directed to an elderly man with graying hair, setting in a simple yet well crafted wooden chair beside a crate. As he approached, the elder looked at John and smiled as he spoke with a cheery voice, “Hello there traveler, I take it that you need to ask me about something?”
“Well yes sir.” John said, attempting to sound respectful though his tried state made his voice sound more tired if anything. “I wanted to ask about your job about a graveyard keeper?”

The moment John finished his question, the elderly man’s pleasant expression faded, turning serious and grim before the man rose from his seat. “The job is available.” he said as he leaned down over the crate, the sound of glass, wood, and metal striking one another sounding as he fumbled through the its contents. “I must say that you have arrived quite late though. You’ll have to leave immediately in you want to reach the graveyard before nightfall.”

“So I have the job?”The man paused for a moment, John hearing a sigh that conveyed a mixture of sorrow and pity before the man rose and turned to John, thrusting a leather pack into his arms along with a rusty shovel.

“You’ll find the keys, a lantern, and oil inside the bag. You’ll also find a piece of parchment that has the prayer of the Archangel Michael. Stuff it into your shirt and over your heart.”

“Stuff it down my shirt and over my heart? That just sounds ridic-“

“Do not question my instructions!” the man shouted angrily, John jumping back reflexively. The man looked at John as though he was common scum before turning to the side, coughing before speaking in a hoarse voice, “My apologies, I get excited rather easily in my old age. The act of having a copy of the prayer of the Archangel Michael be pressed against your heart is a local tradition for those who work far from home during the night. It offers protection from those who would mean to do you harm so as long as one keeps it on their person. ”

“Oh I see sir. My apologies if I insulted you.” John said apologetically as he shuffled the weight on his hands and arms to free his right hand, using it to search the bag for the parchment before slipping it down his shirt and over his heart. “Is there anything else I should kn-“

Before he could finish asking his question, John found himself being pushed through the town toward its edge by the old man who said to him as he shoved John along “You should be all set now and I do believe that you have quite a walk in store for you and should get going if you want to avoid be caught outside the graveyard in the dark. Just take the path that starts on the edge of the village and follow it into the valley and you’ll find the graveyard. Now get moving!” With that, the man turned around and briskly walked back to his chair, John doing nothing for a moment as he tried to put together what had just happened before noticing the sun was indeed just setting over the horizon, John cursing his lack of attention as he set off into a run towards his appointed chore.

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The sun soon dove beyond the horizon and John found himself forced to light his lantern, holding it in front of himself as he followed the rather faint path which he assumed was the path into the valley. With the sun’s exit, the entire landscape had quickly become enveloped in a shroud of darkness whose cold was biting through John’s thin clothing. As John, brought the lantern closer to himself in order to savor its warmth, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dreadful unease. His lantern, despite the small heat it offered, only could cast a feeble halo of light around itself leaving the darkness to cling around its edges as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and extinguish what had dared to interrupt this colorless scene with its very presence.

After walking further into the inky blackness, John stopped as he saw the path cease just before two imposing iron gates, their night granting them an intimidating appearance similar to a cruel sentinel that judged everyone in a harsh light. At that moment, John felt something within himself, an urge that demanded him to leave. Within him, he could feel his mind and soul crying out in silent panic for his body to turn around and to leave that place behind and never return as matter how much money and service the village could pay him, it could not possibly be worth tending to this place, this graveyard in the absolute dead of the night. However, as if to argue back, his stomach ached, complaining of the lack of food apart from the scraps that he was able to gather from some trash heap a few days ago. The body demanded sustenance and was not afraid of letting it be known especially when the chance of food and a relatively warm bed was only one night away, one night of uncomfortable unease for a morning of satisfaction and satiation. John groaned, bemoaning his situation before he took out the keys from his bag and shoved one into the lock.

Luckily enough, the first key he tried was the correct one as lock groaned, the key sliding into the chamber easily. John made a motion to turn the key by as it turned halfway, he was met with sudden resistance from the lock which refused the key from moving any further. “Oh come now, open up!” he gruffly muttered as his frigid fingers fought against the lock. The key slowly began to turn before the lock snapped open loudly, almost in a way that resembled a bark, as the gate sudden swung completely open without something to keep to it place. The iron smashed against the stone wall beside it, producing an almost unnatural crashing sound as the silence was shattered abruptly. John felt his heart pulse wildly against his chest, John leaning forward at the sudden internal change as he begin to struggle to breath. John felt himself panicking, quickly trying to readjust his breathing as he hit his fisted left hand against his chest as though to chastise his own cowardice. In a few moments, his heart began to beat more steadily as he breathing resumed its normal pattern, the silence returning to replace the void of sound. Without another thought, John quickly walked inside, slamming the gate behind himself, his frustration and annoyance apparent; as he moved on, the faint glow of the lantern illuminating the scene before him.

The graveyard, despite its borders being surrounded by an atmosphere of anxiety, was quite pleasant compared to the other graveyards he had seen. The grass was trimmed with care, each gravestone seemed smooth and detailed with the names, age, and final words of the deceased etched onto them as each headstone was lined in a neat row with a path between each row to allow for access. From a glance, he could see some of them adorned with the safety devices for which he was hired for, small brass bells that hung on the top of a gravestone and small brass tubes which had a special covering over it to prevent insects and water from getting in while also letting in precious air. They were essential devices to ensure no one would be buried alive by mistake, but John largely ignored them. They were mere trinkets of people who feared death which no doubt was easy to determine at a mere glance. His state of poverty had constantly pitted him against death and by no means was he afraid of it nor was he going to accept his own end quietly.

Besides the graveyard stood the grounds of the local church, which looked well made and well-decorated from the outside. As the moonlight began to peer out from behind the nightly clouded skies, John could see several elaborate stain-glass images of Christ and the saints adorning the sides of the moderately-sized stone building as well as a bell tower holding a large brass bell that looked worn from use and age. The large holy building almost resembled a shepherd looking over his flock in a hostile world, the idea offering him a sense of comfort as the moonlight helped cast away the shadows that plagued his heart and mind. He turned away from the church and began his task of walking bout the many rows of the cemetery and inspecting the safety devices on the graves.

He meandered about the various graves aimlessly for some time before he made a makeshift shelter within some bushes planted near the church end of the graveyard to keep warm with the lantern. He would have to apologize for making such a mess come the morning. Still, considering how the cold was constantly seeping into his bones, his shivering limbs and chattering teeth were more than enough justification for where he currently stood on the matter. He switched between staying in his shelter and wandering the grounds periodically, every trip outside becoming more and more difficult for him to accomplish as the moderate warmth of the lantern insulated by the leaves of the bush made his situation somewhat tolerable in comparison to what laid outside in the graveyard. He wasn’t even carrying his shovel anymore, considering it to be dead weight which he left outside the bushes as he made his ever shortening patrols. No one was going to be waking up within their buried coffins. The bells would not ring in protest of death, and no voices would be heard screaming for aid from the darkness that enveloped them. His job was going to be an easy one tonight. John sighed in relief, stretching out while not noticing how his movement pushed the parchment out of his shirt. It fluttering sound it made as it fell from the collar of his shirt caused him to look down just in time to see the parchment get picked up by the wind which began to carry it away from him.

John grabbed the lanterns handle as he jumped to his feet, emerging from the bushes with one outstretched arm that was swiping at the air in an attempt to snatch the parchment back from the hands of the wind. Even though the parchment hadn’t done much for him except make him feel somewhat uncomfortable at times, John presumed that if he didn’t have it on him when he went back into the town to collect his pay that he would surely be chastised by the old man or worse, fired from what would then become his one night stand. John could not allow that to happen, his legs propelling him forward after the wayward parchment until he felt his outstretched hand touch it. With one last burst of strength, he leap forward only to close his fingers around frigid air as he fell over onto the earth. He grunted as he hit the ground, moaning at the impact before turning his head up, the undamaged lantern’s light showing one last glimpse of the parchment as it flew over the cemetery’s wall and into the night. John pounded the earth in frustration for a moment before he began to get up so he could start and search for the parchment when he heard something..

“Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?” said a feminine voice which sounded terrified and hoarse as though the voice had been crying out for some time. John paused before quickly shining his light around himself, finding nothing around him.

“Somebody? Anybody? Please help me! Help me please!” the voice cried out again, this time John turning to the direction of the voice, noticing a pipe springing from the ground. He kneeled down on one knee, his head close to the pipe before he spoke.

“Hello?”

With that, a cheer of joy sounded from the pipe mixed in with what could only be described as someone sobbing out of sheer happiness. “Someone is here at last! Please help! Please, I beg of you! Save me from this tomb!” said the voice of the woman, her voice trembling with anticipation and desperation. John could hardly believe it but from the sound of it, he was in one hell of a situation. He was certain that this sort of thing never happened and was only occurred in the gossip that he only heard among those who ignored him and his pleas of mercy and goodwill as he begged. Still, gossip didn’t change the fact that a woman was definitely down there in the darkness of a coffin.

He leaned closer to the pipe’s opening, saying in as much of calm and composed voice as he could muster while being so cold, “Don’t you fret now ma’am. I’ll get you out of there as-“

“Oh thank you good sir! Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you,” she interrupted, the woman repeating her phrase of gratitude on and on it was a chant that she thought would ensure her salvation from whatever hell she currently was within. He hovered over the pipe for every second of it as he felt it would be dangerous for him to leave to retrieve his shovel without telling him lest she panic. She continued to repeat her phrase, her words becoming more calm and pleasant-sounding with each iteration, he former strained voice fading into a memory for John. He had to admit that her voice had a sort of charm to it. Through her voice, he could almost imagine her as being quite fair and beautiful. He sighed in imaginative delight, his eyes wandering over to the gravestone behind the pipe addressed for a Lily Deux. Realizing he was staring at a gravestone however, his mind was shaken from such thoughts of fancy.

“I’m sorry to cut you off Ms. Deux but I need to retrieve my shovel to dig you out.”Lily’s voice went silent for a moment before speaking again in a tone that hinted guilt.

“Oh right! I’m so sorry I was just so caught up with someone finally being able to save me! My apologies!”

“Ms. Deux, I don’t believe you have to apologize for anything considering your situation.” Lily’s could be heard eliciting a small chuckle at his words, John smiling the moment he heard it.

“I suppose I don’t! I will thank you properly though once I get out of her though, believe that Mr…uh…” he voiced trailed off, uncertainty obvious in her voice as John helped her, his tone becoming more relaxed.

“Hampshire, Ms. Deux. John Hampshire is my name.”

“Well thank you for telling me your name than John.” Lily said. “And you can just call me Lily if you want though I really can’t stop from calling me whatever you want anyway considering where I am right now,” she added, John letting out a small chortle at the comment before stopping himself. He had to be serious right now and dig her up.

“Alright tan, whatever you say Lily. I’ll be back in a second though.”

“Okay than John, just don’t take too long!”

With that being said, John rushed from the gravestone and went to back the bushes to retrieve his shovel. There, he went to where he had dropped the shovel only to find that the shovel was missing from its spot. “Odd. I thought I left it the-”

In that moment, he heard a loud growling sound coming from right behind him, John freezing in spot. He dared not move lest the creature behind him become provoked by any sudden movements and thus attack him, feeling warm and labored breath all across his back. Whatever it was, it had to be large for its breath to be able to warm up his entire backside along with the edges of his chest. He dared not turn back to see what it was for a full minute before he slowly began to inch his head to his right side to face whatever manner of animal stood between him and the task at hand.

The light from his lantern illuminated the dark shape behind him with terrifying detail. It was a large black dog, the entity being over half as tall as he was and just as wide, it’s teeth as large as steak knives and it’s eyes glowing red are hot coals, eyes which stared directly into his own as it let out another growl albeit a muffled one. The reason why it let out such a restrained snarl was because of what it had in between its threatening teeth, John’s shovel.

“John?” John heard Lily shout faintly in the distance from her pipe. Lily was probably wondering if John was still there or not. The moment that she spoke however, the dog rushed forward, the metal spade hitting John square in the chest and knocking him over as it passed by. John coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself up, turning in time to see the creature sit down by the side of the graveyard that sat beside the gate that lead to the church, the shovel still in its mouth, staring directly at him with ominous eyes.

“Damn it! Damn that beast to hell!” he muttered under his breath, worried that Lily would find offense if she heard him said it any louder. He thought he heard a chuckle coming from the tube although he ignored it, picking up his lantern before he proceeded toward the monstrosity while holding the light in front of him as if it was a shield against the malevolent entity that would dare interrupt his attempt to save the innocent and beautiful Lily.

As he approached the obsidian coated monster, the beast itself began to walk away from him at a pace matching his movements while it maintained eye contact with John with its eyes aglow with what could only be described as hellfire. It was purposely avoiding him and did not want him to reach the shovel, the dog growling at him continuously in warning against John. John ignored its attempts to scare him off and continued his steady march, matching the dog’s gaze with his own, hoping that such an act would in turn intimidate the beast in turn. The beast did not seem to care however as it continued to circle around the cemetery, taking care not to step on any of the gravestones and keeping only to the paths.

“Blast it! Stand still!” John cried out with annoyance dripping from the tone of his words. The thing wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to attempt to grab a section of the shovel that wasn’t lodged within the thing’s jaws although even then, he had severe doubts that he could even wretch the tool away from its maw, not with the thing sporting teeth like that. Something had to be done and soon as even though the girl could wait for help, he doubted that any of the villagers would help with a beast in the graveyard and then again, who was to say that the beast couldn’t somehow dig to the woman and devour her? As unlikely as it seemed, its size made it possible and anything with eyes so abnormal as it was certainly not a normal animal.

He and the animal continued to move in what could only be described as a game of cat and mouse with neither side definitively taking the role of the cat or the role of the mouse. It was frustrating to say in the least. As the duo continued their futile dance for a simple stick with metal on the tip of it, John began to look around for something, anything that he could throw at the creature and hurt it, hoping that when hurt it would let out a sound of pain and thus release its grip on the shovel. As he circled about, he soon noticed a small stone on his right side on the grass, the stone about the size of his fist with a rough texture on it. It would be the perfect item to throw at the demon. He stopped moving, the thing doing the same although it soon lowered slightly, baring it’s teeth and it’s growling growing louder to where it was a borderline roar and it’s eyes turning from a hellish red to what could be only be described as an deathly black with blazing sparks of orange and red flickering across the iris. John felt hesitant looking at the creature now, his body seizing up as the creature no longer stared into his eyes. Rather, the beast now seemed to be staring right into his very soul, judging him and everything he ever did and would so, silently from afar.

John and the beast stood there, one frozen and the other silent. The two seemed to be engaged in a stalemate which was increasingly shifting in favor of the creature as John’s eyes began to quiver and his expression began to falter from one of bravery to that of uncertainty and terror. The beast let off a sound which John could only interpret to be a chortle as it took John’s wavering stance to be victory, slowly sauntering toward the petrified man. John could only whimper as the beast’s eyes scanned over him as it walked right beneath him, even after it let open its mouth and allowed the shovel fall to the ground with a clang. John was too paralyzed with fear and disgust to move or even consider the shovel as he smelled the necrotic stench from the creature’s lips, a stench of both sickly death and morbid decay. John felt bile rise in his throat. He was helpless; the black dog starting to move ever closer to his fallen position its open mouth around John’s left foot when he heard Lily shout, “JOHN HELP ME!”

That voice, that divine voice which one could not help but feel devoted too, dominated his mind and filled him with a warmth that destroyed the fear within him, his head moving to face the dog who took notice. It quickly tried to clamp its mouth over his foot but John dashed his leg backward from the creature. The creature only snatched a mouthful of air, quickly moving forward to try again. It was interrupted as its teeth met with the same foot that it had tried to bite as John kicked it with all his might. The dog, despite its size, felt surprisingly light to John as he sent it flying into the air yipping in pain as it proceeded to soar backward several feet before it hit the ground, its form sprawling in a heap of fur and limb. Whimpering could be heard coming from it before it became silent.

Without waiting, dropped the lantern and seized the shovel with both hands before sprinting toward Lily’s grave, thrusting the shovel into the ground ahead of himself before grinding to a halt, immediately starting to throw dirt everywhere around himself.

“John is that you? Yes John, hurry, hurry!” said Lily, her voice ecstatic even though her words were slightly muffled as he heard sobbing. Her happiness made him feel invigorated despite all that happened to him. Her voice and her safety were all that mattered as he continued to dig down toward the coffin. His strength itself seemed to be magnified by the rapture she conveyed as she shouted, “Closer! You’re getting closer! Hurry! Hurry!”

His arms seemed to pitch far more dirt then what he normally could be expected to, his speed almost equal to three men combined! He thrust his shovel once more into the dirt, the metal of the spade resounding as he struck something solid, something wooden. Lily’s voice grew even louder, her voice being the only thing he imagined at that point as he shoved aside the dirt covering the sides of the coffin. With that done, he raised his shovel above his head, readying himself to smash the lower left side of the wooden prison to break Lily and her enchanting voice out from the confinement of the darkness they was sealed within!

Before he could deliver the blow though, John heard a loud and resounding bark which drove away the sound of Lily’s sweet voice, leaving John’s arms stiff. Without her voice, he was stunned, caught within a daze as he looked up from the small pit he created to seek its source. He saw the black dog peering over the gravestone with a grim and forlorn expression donning its muzzle, the bell hanging beside it to its right, the tube, still connected to the coffin, standing beneath it.

Lily’s voice screamed the word “NO!” with a inhuman screech that was both shrill and piercing as the dog raised his right paw and rang the brass bell. John heard a small and beautiful chime as the bell rung and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. For a moment, everything seemed to be at peace as the chime sounded throughout the graveyard. Just as quickly and suddenly as it had appeared though, this peace was broken as from the coffin, an anguished wail that conveyed excruciating agony was released. It was so powerful that the lid of the coffin itself rose in the middle and on the edges almost as if swelling with anger. The only thing that kept the lid sealed on the pine box was the iron nails used to bolt shut although they too strained as they struggled to continue their appointed task. John was forced to his knees as the coffin buckled beneath him, John struggling to keep his balance as he his hands desperately attempted to block out the sound of true suffering that raked his entire body. His teeth grinded against one another, his body contracted into a fetal position, his sight became blurry and hazy before he closed them, and his fingernails dug so furiously into his head that small pools of crimson formed beneath them as his mind screamed for release from the pressure pressed onto it.

As if in answer to his call for reprieve, the pain stopped. The screaming stopped. The chaos around John seemed to have settled at long last. John, shaken and whimpering softly opened his eyes slightly. Everything was muddled in his vision as he peered around himself although his sight soon began to recover bit by bit. After a few moments, his sight was clear enough for him to see that he was still within the confines of the pit that he had constructed in haste and that the coffin lid that he was lying on, while still on, had an large an unusual bulge protruding from the center of the coffin, extending to its sides. The black dog was also nowhere to be seen and Lily’s voice could no longer be heard from either the pipe or the coffin. All that could be heard however was the fluttering of a piece of parchment, which had the prayer of the Archangel Michael written on it, that propped itself against the gravestone of Lily Deux who was twenty-two years old at the time of her death, a time which had long since passed having been three years ago…