Polaris

Back From the Dead Tonight

Bubbl! Wake up!

... Bubbl!

Gasping to life, I opened my eyes only to be met with darkness. Searching desperately for the voice that had been calling my name... Everything smelled like dirt. Mud. Desperately trying to breathe, I patted around my surroundings. Trying to figure out why I couldn't see. The space felt small, cramped, and damp.

"Hello!? Is anyone there!?"

Nothing. Where was the voice that just had been calling my name?

"LET ME OUT!"

I started banging against the material that was my prison only to be showered in mud. Falling down on my face, and threatening to suffocate me. For a moment, the realization of where I was hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been buried.

Alive.

At this point, there was only one thing to do. Escape my Earthly prison and find out whoever had done this sick joke. Beginning the desperate climb out of the hole. Breaking the wood was difficult, and left my hands bleeding. After that, it was holding my breath to dig through the thick mud with my bare hands. I eventually managed to shove my head out of the hole. The wet Earth trying to suck me back down into the grave. Exhausted, I managed to pull myself out onto stable ground. Laying on my back looking up at the rain filled sky. Once I had managed to catch my breath, I turned to face my grave...

"Bubbl" Walker

2028-2051

The original first name had been scratched out, leaving only, "Bubbl," Walker on the grave.

There was no other description, other than my name and the year of my birth and, "death." Slowly approaching the stone, I searched for what my original name could have been. Why it was avoiding me in the moment was beyond me. Or why my head sang in pain every time I thought of it. Who forgets something like that? Their own name? However, there had been a weapon left on the grave. A purple shimmering combat knife, with a pitch black handle, wrapped and felt most definitely like leather. Figuring it was an offering left on my, "grave," or a gift from someone who had, "mourned," me, I took it. As I continued to look at my own grave, I could only feel sick to my stomach. How had I been buried alive? How did this all happen? All I could remember...

Ugh, my head. Trying to think of the past made my head sing in pain, to the point I saw spots in my vision. I decided remembering may not be the best of things, I needed to bring myself back to that baseline of normal. A warm drink and a belly full of food would probably do the trick. Figuring asking questions may be the better option. Wiping off my soiled clothes, I took note that I had been extravagantly dressed. A classic black suit that would have fit quite well with my typical attire. A violet tie with a blueberry tie clip. But my clothes had been caked in mud in the act of digging myself out. Not to mention the rain was coming down in sheets. I shuffled my way over to what I had assumed to be the Gravekeeper's hut. It was so small, nearly a shed where things could be kept. I knocked on the door, pounding as I found my limbs were still not in proper working order. My limbs were stiff and heavy - combined with a pins and needles feeling, a feeling that was fading as I continued to move. How long had I been unconscious? More importantly, why didn't this bastard notice when it originally happened?

The gentleman who came to the door was on the younger side. His short, dirty blonde hair stuck out at awkward angles under his black beanie. A thick brown coat, worn, dirty black pants, and a muddy pair of combat boots told me he had been out recently. His cerulean eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the sight of me, and his hands were quick to come up around his mouth.