Young God

Same Shit, Different Day?

Dark, murky water sloshed around their ankles as the six trudged through the mud and then the rusted wrought iron gate. The gate and its equally rusted fence defined the divide between the living and the had once lived. Jagged tombstones rose from the soft grass, saturated from heavy, steady drops raining from the sky.

Dressed in black from head to toe, they slipped and slid through the mess, yet they marched on, upright, stiff, lifeless eyes forward. Despite the joint effort, not one of them was any wiser to the others' identities. Armed with only the knowledge that this was something imperative, they moved onward.

Leading the group was Harry. A grunt sounded from low in his throat as they stumbled collectively, nearly dropping the heavy casket they hauled. Its surface was polished to perfection, the dull gray clouds reflecting in the coffin's black lid.

Soaked chestnut strands of his hair stuck to his skin, obstructing his vision, yet his feet seemed to know where to go. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed above as the storm raged on, blanketing the world beneath in darkness.

Ahead, Harry spotted a freshly dug grave at the cemetery's edge, red dirt piled high at the foot of the hole. Undoubtedly, this was their destination. They were nearly there. A few more yards and they'd lay the unfortunate soul trapped inside the coffin to rest. Their load was suddenly lightened as one of the others tripped, the side handle slipping from its hand.

Horrified, Harry turned, noting that the others had slowed to a halt, dead expressions intact. His eyes darted toward the ground only to witness his very own body tumble from the casket. Its closed eyes shot open, revealing black eyes, eyes that slowly panned toward where he stood, alive, bewildered, and lightheaded. Knees weak, he collapsed but never met the ground.

"Fuck," Harry grumbled breathlessly, fully expecting to be greeted with the wet, sticky mud he'd just landed in, but was met with the soft cotton of his bed's sheets instead. The sweat covering his bare chest had dampened the fabric.

He tossed the sheets aside, running his hands over his face, releasing a heavy sigh. He'd have to do laundry for the fourth time that week, goddamn nightmares. Slowly sitting upright, he reached toward the night stand and felt around for his phone.

Further annoyed to discover that he'd awakened approximately fifteen minutes before the alarm was set to sound, he shook his pounding head, grimacing as he tasted last night on his tongue. "Gross," he mumbled.

What he'd been thinking by mixing both clear and brown liquor, he didn't know. Perhaps there was never much thought involved. Only careless people partied until three in the morning knowing they had to work the next day. He'd stumbled into his apartment around a quarter until four. It was now a quarter until eight.

He'd at least remembered to close the curtains before passing out. The blackout drapes he'd recently installed in his bedroom were tightly drawn. It was the only way he could sleep these days, even the faintest sliver of light enough to disturb his slumber.

And by god, he didn't care for light of any kind at the moment. He clicked the device's side lock and restored the darkness. The thought of leaving bed was almost too much to bear; however, he'd cashed in his last favor from his boss and he preferred to remain employed.

Like clockwork, his phone vibrated and his employer's name appeared onscreen. He had hardly answered before the fussing started.

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm five minutes away."

"Don't piss on me and tell me it's raining. You're still in that bed, ain't you?"

"... Maybe. Also, hi, Raymond. Damn. It's too early for this shit."

"If you were ever early, we wouldn't have this problem," Raymond said, chuckling. "Please get your ass here in the next half hour."