Erased and Returned

The rain came down in a soft drizzle, soaking into the freshly turned earth at the cemetery. Fat droplets pattered against the canopy of black umbrellas, rolling off in streams and pooling in the muddy grass. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and cut flowers, mingling with the occasional rustle of shifting feet. The mourners huddled close, their breath misting in the chilly air, whispering among themselves about the tragic accident that had claimed Daniel Reeves. A car wreck, they said—no body recovered, but enough wreckage to assume the worst. Some speculated in hushed voices, recounting the details they had pieced together from the news, while others simply shook their heads, lost in sorrow.

The service was short, the eulogies heartfelt. The officiant's voice wavered only slightly as he spoke of Daniel’s kindness, his ambitions, the dreams he would never realize. His sister, Claire, stood at the front, clutching a damp tissue in one hand and a single white rose in the other. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the flower, its petals already wilting under the relentless drizzle. She hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t found the strength to. Her dark dress clung to her frame, damp with rain, and her tear-streaked face was pale against the black veil that draped over her hair.

The priest was reciting the final prayer when the murmurs started—just a ripple at first, moving through the crowd like a cold wind. A gasp followed, then the collective intake of breath. Claire turned, the words caught in her throat.

Daniel Reeves stood at the edge of the gathering, drenched from head to toe. His suit—one he had no memory of putting on—was torn at the shoulder, his face bruised and gaunt. His eyes scanned the crowd in a mixture of confusion and exhaustion.

"I—" he tried to speak, but the words failed him. His presence was enough.

A scream cut through the silence, then a clatter as someone dropped their umbrella. The mourners stumbled back, unsure whether they were seeing a ghost or a miracle. Claire took a hesitant step forward, eyes locked onto her brother as if he might disappear again.

"Daniel?" she breathed, and in that moment, the world held its breath with her.

He nodded slowly. "I think... there's been a mistake."

A mistake. The understatement of the century. But the stunned faces around him told Daniel one thing with certainty—he had a lot to explain.

Claire was the first to move. Her white-knuckled grip on the rose loosened, and the flower tumbled to the mud. She barely noticed. Her steps quickened until she was running toward him. The world blurred as she crashed into her brother’s chest, her arms wrapping around him as if anchoring him to reality.

He was solid. Warm. Real.

Daniel tensed at first, then exhaled, his shoulders sinking under the weight of relief. "I'm here, Claire. I'm here."

Tears streamed down her face as she pulled back, gripping his face between her hands. "How? We thought—we thought you were dead. They told us—"

"I don’t know." Daniel shook his head, his brow furrowing as though trying to force memories to the surface. "I remember driving. The headlights. Then—nothing. Just darkness. And then I woke up, walking. Walking toward here. I don’t even know how I got this suit."

The murmurs among the mourners rose to a cacophony. Some whispered prayers, others shuffled back, as if afraid of what they were witnessing.

"Daniel." A deeper voice cut through the noise. Their father, Robert Reeves, pushed through the gathering, his usual stoic demeanor cracked wide open with disbelief. "Son, is this really you?"

Daniel met his father’s gaze, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before nodding. "It’s me, Dad. I swear."

Robert crossed the space between them and pulled Daniel into a tight embrace. "God, we thought we lost you."

A voice broke through the reunion, sharp and trembling. "But this isn’t possible. The wreckage—" It was Daniel’s childhood friend, Marcus, his expression shifting from shock to something more wary. "The car was totaled. There was blood. They said no one could have survived."

Daniel swallowed hard. "Then how am I standing here?"

A fresh wave of silence passed through the mourners. No one had an answer. Rain continued to fall, soaking into the ground where his empty casket was meant to be lowered. The implications twisted in everyone’s minds—miracle, mistake, or something far more unsettling?

The sound of approaching sirens broke the spell. Someone must have called the authorities, and Daniel didn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes, he’d question his own existence too.

Claire wiped her face and turned to him. "We need to get you checked out. Figure out what happened."

Daniel nodded, though something deep inside him whispered that the answers wouldn’t come easily. As the first police car pulled up, the officer stepping out with cautious eyes, Daniel realized one thing—his return was only the beginning of a much greater mystery.

As they drove to the hospital, Daniel’s mind felt like a static-filled radio, bits of memory flickering in and out. The rain blurred the streetlights outside, their glow smeared across the glass. He closed his eyes, trying to focus. There had been something before he woke up. A feeling. A voice whispering his name in the dark.

When they reached the hospital, the doctors seemed hesitant. The nurse taking his vitals kept glancing at the chart, then back at him, her brows knitting together. "Your heart rate is a little slow, Mr. Reeves. Are you feeling lightheaded?"

"No," Daniel replied, but the concern in her eyes didn’t fade.

The doctor ordered scans, tests, everything. Hours passed, but no one could explain the results. No signs of injury. No evidence of trauma. Nothing to suggest he had been in a near-fatal car crash.

Claire sat beside him, arms crossed, her foot tapping anxiously against the tile floor. "This doesn’t make sense," she muttered. "How can you be fine? You should be—"

"Dead?" Daniel finished, offering a hollow smile. "Yeah, I know."

Then, late into the night, a shadow passed the doorway of his hospital room. A man in a dark suit. He didn’t enter. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, watching.

Daniel sat up, heart hammering. "Did you see that?"

Claire frowned. "See what?"

Daniel turned back toward the door, but the figure was gone. Only the steady hum of the hospital remained. A chill settled over him.

Something wasn’t right.

His return wasn’t just unexplained—it was impossible. And somewhere, someone knew why.

A ringing sound jolted Daniel from his thoughts. A phone. But not his. His eyes darted around the room, landing on the hospital bedside table. A small, unfamiliar flip phone sat there, its screen flashing with an unknown number.

He hesitated before picking it up. The moment his fingers brushed the device, the ringing stopped. A text appeared on the screen: Do not trust them. You were never supposed to come back.

His breath hitched. His pulse pounded in his ears.

Claire noticed his expression. "Daniel? What's wrong?"

He turned the phone toward her, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think someone knows what happened to me."

Outside, the storm raged on, thunder rolling in the distance. The man in the dark suit stood across the street, watching the hospital window, before slipping away into the night.