As my hands push away the dirt slowly, I curse silently. This is the third time this has happened to me. I'm undead, I'm immortal, I'm powerful. How do I keep ending up buried in the ground?
It's a mystery, just as much as whatever caused me to end up undead in the first place. I haven't yet met anyone else like me, and so I was denied the opportunity to ask about the whats and hows of the whole situation.
To be honest, I don't even know what I should call myself. And so I settle for the word 'revenant'. Someone who returns, as if from the dead. Seems fitting.
I know one thing though, as my right hand finally breaks free. This will be the last time someone buries me undead.
Author's note: My entry for Week 8 of YA's Flash! contests.
