THE WAKING DEAD.
There she lay in the dark corner of the church hall; her state of flesh being set in deterioration for the coming morning- the gloomy corridors acting as if trying to set in darkness the onward path of her tiny soul.
There was dead silence in the hall and this silence pervaded everything-the coffin and the single candle burning t the head of the corpse. Gradually the weird shapes of shadows began to creep to take their trembling shapes across the wall with flickering shadow of coffin overlapping.
Few guts of the wind came sliding underneath the big gate of the hall, chasing the shadows and nearly brought the candle flame to halt, it fluttered but with renewed struggle managed to survive. The funeral was going to take place in the morning and the corpse was left under the guard of a young man learning his trade under the tutelage of his employer, a well known undertaker of long standing.
The young man wanted to keep away his distance from the corpse as long as he could but in few hours he had to bring the lid of the coffin to close. He came hear the corpse to take a look that everything was in order, the pitiable figure of young women lay there clad in white, her face scarred and pale under the goad of poverty and hunger. The flame fluttered again and a shiver ran through his body as he felt that the dead woman’s hand lifted and nearly touched him.
His heart was beating fast but as he wanted to move away, he saw a ray of glitter hitting his frightened eyes. It came from an object within the coffin and when he examined it closely he observed that it came from the ring worn by the dead woman. It was a beautiful ring, expertly crafted and looked expansive.
‘What an irony that the dead are wearing jewelled rings and poor sods like me are starving. I deserved that ring more than the dead woman can.’
Such thought took over his feverish brain till he gave into the power of greed.
‘I must have that ring’
‘No you cannot have it’ a voice within him spoke
‘But why not? The woman is dead. It makes no difference to her'
‘It makes the difference to your inner soul.'
‘To hell with my soul.'
He bent down and with trembling hands got hole of dead hand which felt cold and clammy. He grabbed the ring with his other hand but it refused to budge. He tried harder and harder but it was no use. It seemed that her joints were swollen and stiff. He tried harder and harder till cold sweat was drenching his whole body and he was trembling he sat on the hard cold floor and pondered. He looked around and found a kitchen knife lying on a table near the wall. He stumbled to fetch it and then slid it under the finger ring and tried to yank it off but still the ring deluded him.
He was in a bad state now, afraid of the dead frozen eyes that seemed to look and watching his every movement and with a mixture of compulsion and fright, he struck a below with the knife as to chop the finger off and suddenly a shower of red liquid gushed forth like a fountain drenching him and the dead girl with oozing blood.
Suddenly he saw the dead body jerked and sat upright. There was no time to have a second look and the boy ran out screaming onto the street, leaving the church gate ajar.
The sleeping figure sat and examined her surroundings but could not make sense of anything surrounding her. Her long hair was dishevelled and covered her face down to her blood splattered clothes. The pain from the cut was unbearable and as she touched her face, she found it marked too with splashes of crimson red. She stepped out of the coffin and began to run around the hall crying and screaming. She had to leave her dreadful surroundings soon or collapse soon.
Outside the night air was cold and it bit through her gushing wound and the piercing pain made her even madder. She ran through the street screaming and the sight of her must have made other people run in fright. Luckily there were not many people around on the streets at hour of time.
In her half dazed state, she stopped in front of a door and began to beat it furiously. Most people in the house were asleep but a maid woke to find the knocks echoing through the house and when she opened the door, the horrible sight confronting her put into fright and as she ran upstairs, the blood smeared woman too followed he running breathlessly upstairs.
Soon the inhabitants of the house woke up and looking at the sight in front of, some ran away screaming and others put their head back under their quilts, to ward away that evil that will be soon upon them. An old woman came and bent down crossing herself.
“Go back to the land of the dead where you came from daughter. May God have the mercy on your soul?”
“Mum! But I am not dead. Please, please help me. I am dying from this excruciating pain.”
The old woman stepped forth with her eyes closed, unable to bear the sight before her and slowly touched the standing figure. The bleeding figure tightened her arms around her mother’s neck sobbing. The old woman could not keep her tears away from gushing forth and mother and daughter began to weep loudly clutching each other and screaming.
Copyright(C) 2013. Durlabh Singh.
