Every grave holds a person, their life, and their legacy. It reminds you that you have only one shot at this life, and to live it to the fullest, but is this true? I have experienced something in my life that most people haven’t; it’s so bizarre that even you aren’t going to believe my experience.
My boyfriend of two years was run over by an eighteen wheeler at the age of twenty one. He was coming home from work on his motorcycle and the truck driver supposedly didn’t see him until it was too late. His funeral was heavy, he had so many loved ones, and none of them even got to say goodbye. It was a closed casket funeral, and as he got put six feet under, I was saddened, certain that I was never going to see him again.
The following two weeks were a blur. I had been stuck in a constant state of grief and sadness, drinking myself to sleep and chain smoking when I was restless. Our love was so strong, it was one you would read about in fairy tales. We were meant for each other, I don’t think anyone could deny that, and that’s why I believe he came back to me.
The night he came back was cold and stormy, wind whistled throughout out my house, which was interrupted with the occasional burst of thunder. I laid awake in my bed sipping on rum, and listening to the howls and cracks from outside, when suddenly a new sound echoed through my house. A knock on my door. The clock on my nightstand claimed that it was three in the morning, I had crawled out of bed wondering who it could be.
I had crept down the stairs, heading towards the door to find the answer to my first question. But as soon as I got to the door, I realized it was already open! I gasped, wondering how the door had been opened when I kept it locked at all hours of the night! I ran to close it, having to fight the wind to keep it shut; I locked it and immediately heard a soft groan coming from down the hall. I had a short wave of fright, looking down to see muddy footprints heading towards the dreaded sound. I had known in my mind that I should have just left the house, but for some reason, my body at the time had forced me to follow the mossy, wet footsteps towards whoever or whatever it was. I stopped, keeping my body hidden behind the wall, and turned my head to see what looked like a corpse!
The man was bony mangled, and rotten, with the most foul smell one could ever imagine. Flesh peeled as the mud slopped off onto my kitchen floor. I stared in shock, when I realized it had been my boyfriend! He had come back! Rigor mortis crackled as he reached his half decayed hand up into the fridge, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. The juice poured into his mouth and then out of his throat right onto the floor into the pile of mud and aged blood beneath him. Quickly, he had turned around, as if he was alerted of my presence. Still having been frightened, I took cover behind the wall, but it didn’t matter, he saw me.
“Hi baby, it’s just me, no need to be scared!” He said in a much more grungy and macabre way than he had ever sounded when he was alive.
I had stood, just in complete shock, trying to grasp what was happening.
“That truck really did a number on me, but it doesn’t matter because my love brought me back to you!” He continued.
I bolted down the hall and towards the door. At that moment, I knew this was impossible, I was horrified!
“Baby, where are you going?” He questioned, as he paced around the corner and down the hall towards me.
His skin was peeling off, exposing more bone than flesh, a hole in his neck showed orange juice still dripping down, and his one eye was covered with maggots and other critters. I screamed, trying to unlock the door.
“Baby, it’s going to be okay, we can finally be together forever!!!” He shouted.
I finally unlocked the door, but as I opened it, he approached me, grabbing my face and giving me a good long kiss on my lips. The very same kiss I had missed since his absence.
“I love you,” He told me.
I smiled, giving him another kiss.
Credit : TheBatThing
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