Servant

Steven opened his eyes and saw … nothing. Pitch-black darkness. He blinked his eyes a few times. The motion was weird without the visual input of it. His next impulse was to sit up, so he did.

He bumped his head hard on a surface above him. The feeling of it was strange. Of the bumping, not so much the surface above him. Anyway, he knew it was supposed to hurt, and he instinctively raised a hand to cover his forehead, but he didn’t feel much at all. He registered the impact, yes, but it was void of any reactionary result.

Steven felt around to gauge his situation. The space he was in was small. There was a pillow beneath his head and the sides of his confines seemed padded and covered with a fabric. The shape wasn’t exactly rectangular either.

It felt like a coffin? That made sense as Steven came to the sudden realisation that he had died. Now that he thought of it, he remembered it vividly. The hospital, the monitors, the sickness. All but the actual dying, that part was pretty vague. Still, he was definitely dead which was … unfortunate.

And it also raised the question as to why he wasn’t anymore. Or maybe he somehow still was? He froze in place. Had he become a vampire? Or even worse, a zombie? But he could still think, so scratch that second option. So, a vampire? Was that even possible?

He was more of a werewolf type of person, but he knew his fair share of lore when it came to vampires. He wondered when one would have gotten to him, and why. Was it even possible? And wasn’t he supposed to be dying of thirst? He raised his hand to his face again. No fangs either. Not that he could feel. So, not a vampire? Then what was he?

He wasn’t going to be stuck in his coffin for all eternity, was he? Just, looking into blackness, hearing nothing, doing nothing. That sounded awful. He wondered how many other corpses in the graveyard were having the same problem like him. Was it common? How did people not know?

Was the coffin going to rot and fall on top of him? Was he going to be conscious while the worms ate him? Was he going to experience rotting away himself?

Steven squirmed, horrified at the prospect. Maybe, just maybe, being conscious meant that he was exempt from all that? Maybe?

He sighed, already depressed by his circumstances, when he thought he heard a sound. He tilted his head. Yes, there it was again. Some sort of dampened ‘swoosh’. With nothing else to do, he listened to it for a while, counting the time between every occurrence. The sound seemed to come closer and closer until something hit the top of his coffin with a resounding ‘thunk’.

“Hey!” Steven called out, miffed by the way his new home was being treated. It only belatedly occurred to him that whoever was digging was probably aiming to free him.

His yell elicited a surprised little squeal.

“What did you expect?” another voice said. The sound was muffled but Steven could just make out the words.

“Stop standing there and help me, would you?” the voice that had squealed demanded.

“No.”

Steven snorted. He settled down to wait, wincing every time the shovel hit his coffin. He didn’t know how long it took. No light came through cracks or anything. At least he knew his coffin was properly made and tightly sealed shut.

At long last, the coffin was pried open. Steven had expected light but of course it was nighttime. Who would dig up a corpse in the middle of the day?

“Finally,” he couldn’t help but say.

“You try digging up a grave!” the vague silhouette above him protested.

Steven couldn’t see much of her. There was clearly a light around somewhere as he could see the glow, but it was behind her and casting her in shadows.

“I told you these new ones would only cause you trouble,” the second voice, still out of the picture, said.

“He only said one word,” number one answered.

“And it was a complaint.” There was a long-suffering sigh. “We wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t forgotten to renew the preservation charm.”

“An honest mistake. I’ve told you I’m sorry like, what, a million times?”

No answer came forth but somehow the silence was a loaded one. The silhouette above him shook her head and looked back down at him.

“Hi, I’m Melissa,” she said. “I believe your name is Steven? At least, your headstone says so. Welcome back to the living! Sort of.”

Steven stared up at her. “Thanks?” he said. “Now what? Can I at least get out of here?”

“Oh, yes, sure. Let me move out of the way. Watch out for bumping against anything, you will barely notice and it won’t do for you to get damaged so soon after being woken.”

Steven contemplated between ‘Jeesh, thanks’ and ‘I’ve noticed’ but eventually just kept his mouth shut. It took some effort, but he managed to crawl out of the coffin and then the hole he was in. As he’d suspected, there was a light shining on the ground around the place of his burial. He blinked a few times and looked at the two women in front of him.

Melissa was rather on the short side and covered in dirt. A few strands of her wild, curly hair were stuck to her forehead. She was wearing worker’s pants and a T-shirt. A sensible choice for digging up a grave.

The other woman was taller, almost the same height as Steven, and had her arms crossed as she regarded him with something akin to disdain. There was a regal air to her. She too was wearing a sensible outfit but only the hems of her pants were sullied. Her hair was in a ponytail and seemed to be fairly straight.

“And you are?” Steven said after they stood staring at each other in silence for a moment.”

“He isn’t even polite,” the woman complained to Melissa.

“Then teach him.”

“Excuse me?” Steven protested.

“See, nothing but trouble with this generation,” the unnamed woman said.

“You said that about me as well,” Melissa said with a roll of her eyes. “And aren’t we best friends now?”

The woman huffed and conceded. “The name is Elisabeth,” she said. “Don’t forget to add ‘miss’ to that.”

“Miss Elisabeth?” Steven echoed with some incredulity.

“Exactly.”

“See? He can learn,” Melissa happily exclaimed. “There’s no need to call me ‘miss’ though. I’m not as old as she is.”

“It’s good manners.” Elisabeth stated.

“It’s ancient,” Melissa answered.

“Alright,” Steven interrupted, wondering what the hell was going on. “So, am I dead or am I alive?”

“Oh, you are very much dead,” Elisabeth said with mirth.

“Right, okay,” Steven said, trying to wrap his head around it. “But I’m up and running,” he finally added.

“Of course, how else will you be our servant?” Elisabeth said.

Steven laughed. “Servant?” he said. “I’m nobody’s servant. I’m a man of my own.”

Something dangerous seemed to come over Elisabeth. “Either you serve, or I make you serve. There’s no choice in the matter. You will do what you were raised for to do.”

“And how exactly will you ‘make me’?”

Elisabeth smiled. It made Steven uneasy.

“Melissa, dear, give him the shovel.”

Steven turned to Melissa, who had apparently sealed his coffin again and was shoveling the dirt back on top of it.

“Can’t you just reason with him?” Melissa asked.

Elisabeth huffed. “He’ll be endless trouble if he doesn’t know who’s boss.”

“I’m not a dog!” Steven exclaimed.

“Hmm,” Elisabeth hummed dismissively. “No, you’re better than that. More obedient.”

Steven absentmindedly accepted the shovel as Melissa handed it over to him. He tried to come up with a witty response but honestly was lost for words.

“I suggest you start shoveling,” Elisabeth said.

Steven huffed derisively. Why would he do that? It wasn’t his fault they’d somehow raised him from the grave.

“Shovel,” Elisabeth repeated, power in her voice.

His body reacted before he could even register the command. He marched over to the pile of dirt and started shoveling. It was weird how it didn’t exhaust him despite it being hard work.

“Good,” Elisabeth said. “Now you know.” She sighed. “I’ll be in the car. Melissa, get him up to speed, would you?” She turned and left the graveyard.

“What the effing is this?” Steven complained, still throwing dirt on his own grave. “I don’t want to be doing this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll soften up to you eventually,” Melissa said while watching him from a distance, sitting on the ground. “She’s still pissed that I forgot that charm and allowed her beloved Richard to decay.”

“I can still decay?” Steven said with horror.

“Yeah. You’ll need to wear a preservation charm to stay fresh. I’ve got one here, but I’ll let you finish your job first.”

“What the hell are you people?” Steven questioned. “Raising me from the dead? Preservation charms?”

“Witches,” Melissa answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “We’re witches, and you we raised to be our servant. Or butler, if you prefer that word. It’s pretty common, really. Why do all the cleaning yourself if you can have someone else do it? Certainly, you agree.”

“Why do I have to be the one doing the cleaning?” Steven complained. “What if I disobey?”

Melissa laughed. “You can’t, like you noticed. You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” She got up. “I see you’re all finished. Grab the lamp, we’ll be heading back home now. And put this charm around your neck. And no, you won’t be able to take it of and decay by choice. We aren’t stupid.”

Annoyed and truly unhappy with the prospect that his prolonged life offered, Steven still did as she said. Decaying sounded like a horrible experience. He’d take some cleaning over that any day.

He picked up the lamp and followed Melissa through the graveyard. Of all things he thought could happen after death, becoming a corpse servant wasn’t one of them. Just his luck.