SHORT SCARY STORIES

Revelations

Outside the wind blew stronger shrieking frantically through some unseen gap in the window frame. Nigel was glad to be indoors on a night like this and took another sip of his drink to warm his insides.

"I..." the undertaker sighed as if struggling to find the correct words. "This may sound farfetched but I need you to listen to me carefully". It was such a waste he wasn't in the theatre, Nigel lamented. He had a natural flare for the dramatic.

"I learned about a person's soul from those teachers in Iraq. They taught me how to communicate with it after a person dies".

"You mean like a medium, a séance?" Nigel was disappointed.

"No, no" he waved the comment away. "Necromancy" the word dropped from his mouth as if he were talking about something as normal and mundane as afternoon tea.

"Goodness gracious Guy, I'm afraid you've lost me" Nigel uttered feeling quite baffled.

"Then allow me to be blunt" Guy said in a fabulously sinister tone. "I've been performing rituals to raise the dead! When someone dies their soul leaves behind an echo of their personality and their memories. When I call them back I talk with them and have complete control over them as if I were a puppeteer. But their ability to speak, like their memories, quickly fades like a battery that is nearly empty. When they first awaken I there are a precious few minutes where they can still recall their life and their death and what happened next. When they have gone I'm just left with an empty shell, which I release again before the body is prepared for burial. These practices are still used in some remote areas throughout the Middle East but it is fiercely guarded, for obvious reasons. That is why I must go away tonight. If people knew of this practice there would be uproar. In fact, in order to maintain its secrecy I have been forced to do something quite terrible".

Nigel put his glass down on the pine coffee table with a shiver as if someone had just walked over his grave. The howling wind and snow continued their screaming beyond the walls of the vicarage, bringing with it images from the darkest fairy tales; of skeletons waking from their eternal sleep to stalk unsuspecting travellers as they pass by ancient graveyards.

"... OK" the vicar replied mentally shaking his head and carefully drawing on all his acting skills to present a look of interest while hoping it wasn't being received as patronising. "That's an incredible story..."

"I don't need you to believe me; I just need you to listen, Nigel" the undertaker's tone changed and the living room seemed to grow colder and darker, despite the fire in the hearth. "When I'm gone I want someone to know about me, to remember me. I am telling you this because I trust you with this information and no one else. Unfortunately someone else was trying to learn about my research. She's some kind of journalist and she's been following me for the last few weeks. I'm troubled by how much she may already know or suspect".

"Of course, old fellow, you need to keep it all close to your chest. Quite understandable" Nigel cleared his throat. He took another large swallow of his whiskey as Guy's preoccupation with the graveyard seemed to have returned again. Nigel cautiously peered out as well but saw nothing of concern beyond the wall.

"You don't think she's she outside now do you?"

"Not anymore" the undertaker replied quietly. "She was there earlier, armed with her camera and goodness knows what other kind of recording equipment. But she's gone now".

"What if she comes back here? What would one say to her?"

"She won't come back here" Guy Alderman rumbled quietly. He sounded more sinister than ever now. So much so that if Nigel hadn't had the pleasure of being acquainted with him for the last fifteen years he may have felt quite unnerved by the dreadful resonance in his voice.