The Resurrectionist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Spirit Space

Historic horror set in 1699 Wales.

Well after one, time to get her done.

Keeping the jolly humming inside I make my way, feeling right and cheery. Picked the day well and all, near full moon, chill fog fingering about as it pulls ya' along. Bound to keep even the most hardy indoors for the night.

This ones at top of hill, have a bit of a climb to reach the side; dug it fresh five day past. No rain or snow fell to pack it in, so's the getting I'm expecting will be as quick as a blink.

Heard tell this ones been to a Sin Eater, that well paying and all proper profession, done so's to be buried in the church while being certain extra of the rising up to meet a better lot.

By my way of thinking, sinner or not, the fate ya' get is of the here and now, comes of need and what ya' want. Speaking of the faithful, for myself I don't believe in heaven, but there can actual be hell. Ya' learn the truth of it while ya' live, and ya' learn it well. An after life place I might inherit as a never man of God. Comes from the profession, and if I happen to get caught, for the man of resurrection it will be the hangmans knot.

Got my day job to cover, get a pence for a yard deep. It's digging honest holes and it's done in peace, and it's how ya' know the customer and just what can be got. A bag of bone soon to rot, all dressed in the best and what a bloody waste. The bloody waste part is none of mine, that comes from the Doc, he's the one who buys the bodies and not for a paupers wage. It's pound for pound with him.

Digging in the dark alone I hum again as I wait for the greeting stench and treasure. When the luck is in it's gold and what they call precious gems. Taking it with them they were, all in certain pleasure and right glad for it, 'cause it's always of measure for measure.

Here with my spade the Resurrectionist will raise the poor and the wealthy up. 'Cause as ya' turn you do learn that the worms will meet us  equal. There's a right lovely rhyme in becoming the sod, and I always give thanks to ya' all when I'm done.


Submitted: April 29, 2021

© Copyright 2021 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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