This is a dream. I know it is. I know it because it has to be. I’m looking at my own tombstone, what else am I supposed to think?

It’s staggering.

That’s how I’d describe the feeling of finding out that I was dead. Like walking through familiar halls, just for some huge mountain of a person to accidentally barrel you over. I felt like I had taken endless steps without ever catching my breath, half falling, half looking for some familiar point of reference.

It has to be a dream.

If I had some way to count time, I still wouldn’t have been able to tell how long it took for me to gather a coherent thought. First, I was standing in front of my own grave inscription. Then I was leaning against a tree. Then lying inside my sarcophagus again.

At the end of it, I was sitting, knees drawn up close, face staring out into the void.

Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

I tried crying.

No tears came. I could do nothing to release the pressure building inside my chest beside wait and hope it would get better.

I’m dead!

I don’t remember how, why, or when. The inscription solved the ‘when’ but even then, that told me little.

What time is it, where am I, how long was I dead, why is it so dark, am I in Hell, is…

I couldn’t even ask myself all of them no matter how long I sat there, so many were buzzing inside my mind and soul, clashing and trying to establish themselves as the foremost contender for my limited attention and will.

What does it all matter? I’m dead, for god’s sake!

I didn’t even remember who I was before I died, what people called me.

Elia Rye-eth?

Elia Rye.

Rye.

The name sounded like nothing to me. But I had armor, weapons, a crest, though it was faded and rotted away. I was a knight, or someone else worthy to be forever entombed in claustrophobic stone with these precious metals.

What an honor, hah!

What did it all matter? What did anything matter when I couldn’t even remember my own damn name? What did it matter if every question I answered created a dozen more? That didn’t even help me with answering why the hell I was still here, despite having evidently croaked a long, long time ago.

In that moment, it all felt like a nightmare no more, yet a nightmare still it was.

Is this the afterlife? Am I in hell? Is this what resting in peace looks like? Screw that, screw it all, it’s a dream. And how does one get out of dreams?

I looked to the side, at the stone tub I was sitting inside of. Maybe all I had to do was rest.

Be peaceful. Be calm. Like the ocean. Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

Right.

I am tired.

This is all an illusion.

A trick, a prank. I just need some sleep. Somewhere warm and safe. Somewhere not wet, preferably. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Sleep.

And so, reclined in my grave, in the vain hope it would open its maw and spew me out to the other side. In the land of the living, the place where I ought to be. A place that was not dark like an endless night underground, where I wasn’t dead and remembered who I was.

What I was.

Wishful thinking was after all, for the desperate, the feeble and fools. And what would it matter if I dreamed on a while longer?

----------------------------------------

I woke up without the comfort of a soft pillow or even a pleasant dream, back into the pitch-black nightmare.

There is nothing worse than being in a situation you are incapable of changing.

I blinked, trying to withstand the feeling of something knocking on my skull. I shooed it away with my hand. It touched nothing and I wasn’t so sure that there even had been anything there in the first place. It sure as hell got me awake though.

C-calm. Ocean and what not. Water. Oh man, am I thirsty again. I wish I had a nice cider. Or warm milk. Tomato juice. An ale, maybe.

Ugh, just thinking about it is making me even more parched. I gotta get up. Up as in… up! Up! UP!

My body was still heavily resisting commands to do anything else. I took a first step. One single action, ever miniscule and often overlooked in the daily running of things. Sun goes up, people stand up, sun goes down, people lie down. “Five more minutes” didn’t change this truth in the slightest.

It was still dark out – what a surprise - and “five more minutes” was sounding more enticing by the minute.

Temptation. Must. Resist.

Something crawled over my shoulder.

Gah! Fffff-

I brushed it off and just like that I got out of my grave for the second time that day.

Or night.

I guess at this point, the distinction is moot.

The air was deathly silent. Oddly fitting. I looked around and, after gathering the pittance of bravery I could, I rummaged through my grave.

Maybe something here’ll help me remember who I’m supposed to be.

There was rotted wood, dry as dust. Some equally eroded cloth. Metal bits and pieces. Through the leather on my fingers, which itself felt uncomfortably dry and crumbly, I felt a round, no, oval shape of something metal, like two pieces of one whole.

Loot! Or, well, I guess it technically already belongs to me, seeing as I’m robbing my own grave. Haha. Only the second weirdest thing I’ve experienced in a day.

While holding it up, I saw that it was an ovaloid metal… thing. A pendant, maybe? I couldn’t make out much more than its rough shape, by touch and sight. Though, it looked like the kind that held something small and important inside.

I opened it up, a third of me expecting a family picture to fall out, another third readying myself for a spider or something to jump out at me. The last third was holding back judgement in the hopes of not getting my hopes up or down.

That way, I’m not gonna be too disappointed.

It opened, revealing two rough-faced halves. There was nothing inside.

Drats.

Unsurprisingly, it was still dark. Very dark. I could make out rough shapes like my hand, feet, and the tree to my right, but if there was anything finely etched into this, I couldn’t make it out.

I touched the surface with my gloved hand. There was indeed something etched into it.

A picture of my parents? An emblem of sorts, maybe? Oh, I got it: A lucky charm.

It was a lucky charm. That’s what I decided on.

I’ll keep it one way or the other, but what I need to know is what this is. It’s important, I’m sure of it. I’ll find out what it is and go from there. After I’ve found some light.

How was I going to do that?

Future me would solve that problem in the future-now. In the present-now, present me needed to find a place with more light.

I checked my right arm.

Ow. Still hurts like fire.

I tried flexing my hand and, to my surprise, that hurt a lot less than moving my entire arm. The wound was around the elbow, where the bristly thing had stung me. Or bit me. I wasn’t too sure on that.

Ok, while my right arm is hanging limp and hopefully getting better, it’s my dedicated memento-holding arm. Armor doesn’t come with pockets ­– Major design flaw; Who ever doesn’t need pockets? – and I need one arm free to wield my super friggin heavy sword. It feels super unbalanced, and I don’t know what to think about that.

Maybe I’m the unbalanced one here?

Probably.

I was starting to feel better in a way. Cathartic even. Like how a jar full of mud and blood would probably feel better if it was empty, even if it would prefer to be clean and filled with water instead.

I don’t know if that makes any sense, but I sure was feeling dirty.

Coincidentally, I would also prefer to be filled with water and so I went back to my little drinking hole, hoping for a few quick sips.

What I got instead was a little frog, or toad, sitting in the hole I’d made like it owned the place.

No. Not this shit again.

“UH!” I said, making it all to clear to the frog that it had no business being in my water supply. The frog didn’t seem to care, just looking up at me with that creepy non-stare all amphibians had in common. Amphibian? I suddenly remembered that word, from somewhere. Weird.

Anyhow, the frog wasn’t budging, but it also didn’t seem to be of the talking, human-toothed, soul-sucking demon variety, judging by the stupid look plastered all over its face.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Stupid frog. Sitting in my stupid watering hole. Doing stupid things, like being slimy, dumb, ugly and in general really unpleasant to be around. Go choke on a pebble!

Revenge against the world seemed like an apt motivation for now. I think a healthy dose of spite was just the right thing to get me through days like these, where everything went wrong right after setting one foot out of bed.

It felt comical and I’d be laughing if I didn’t know for certain that my throat was still in no shape to do anything besides emit horrifying gurgles and moans.

I’ll find another water source. A better one. A puddle or something. I want to find out what’s engraved on this memento of mine. Maybe find someone who can help fix my arm. Or just, you know, sit around, share some drinks and talk. I really could use someone to talk to right about now.

Am I completely alone here? Only one way to find out. Forwards!

While walking ahead, I noticed that I was staggering a bit less than before.

Hooray for powernaps!

I still couldn’t see far, but it was enough to learn that I was in a graveyard of sorts. A tilted gravestone. A row of stone sarcophagi. Occasional metal fences. A frustrating number of holes and knee-high objects.

I stumbled into a lot of things.

Literally.

There were a lot of graves. Some had inscriptions. Some I could even read.

Here lyeth,

artisan of wood and bone,

Kiri the younger,

let hise body be wheldoin,

withinne oure gods.

Seventh wan moon,

seuenth century of the ayge of wan.

That one was small and slightly tilted to the side. It looked like a dime a dozen.

Here lyeth,

herald of our distant lady,

Anna of Loften,

let hire body be wheldoin,

withinne oure gods.

Eighty-sixth full moon,

Seuenth century of the ayge of wan.

This one was quite big. The ground beneath it was disturbed.

Don’t think about it. There are no undead roaming around. They don’t exist, only in stories and faraway places. Haha.

Here lyeth,

brave sword of oure sonne,

Jasper of Orifurt,

let hise…

Here lyeth,

smith of coppers and tins,

…

brave sword of oure sonne,

…

brave sword of oure great lady,

…

brave squire of oure sonne,

…

Some of those rang some bells, but my head was still stoutly refusing to answer with even basic scraps of usable information.

Some of the other graves were open, too. I peered inside one, sword gingerly pointed ahead.

It was empty. Phew.

Another one I inspected was empty at first, until I heard that rustling skitter again and almost got jumped by one of those spiders with bristles on them.

Bristle spiders.

I know, I’m great with names.

This particular spider I managed to smack down and absentmindedly stepped on, squashing it.

Squish.

The pain that followed was due to something I had kind of forgotten in the heat of the moment. I was barefoot. Apparently, burying people with armor was fine. But a nice pair of boots? Yeah, no, that was too much to ask.

Owowow. Stupid prickly pricks.

After picking all of the spines out of my soles, I returned to my exploration of what was turning out to be quite the large graveyard. There were a few bristle spiders scattered about the area and I ran into more than a dozen of them, the largest one being the size of my head. With a bit more care and concentration, they weren’t that hard to deal with. They were pretty stupid after all. And tasted horrible as well, but starvation was a pretty good cook.

As I encountered a few more of them, I could feel myself getting better at disposing them. I was even starting to feel better in general, my worries drowned out by the satisfying crunch every dead spider made.

Who knew that killing vermin could feel so… restorative? Good for body and soul.

This, combined with the spiders not really being all that filling meal-wise, meant that I got impatient, cocky, then careless.

As I was repeating the old ‘bait them with my sword tip, then smash them when they’ve climbed onto it’-tactic once again, I held the sword a bit too high above my head. As I swung it down, I noticed some weight suspiciously missing and the sounds of a dead spider were suspiciously absent as well. That missing weight then plopped right onto my head and limbs ranging from twiggy like a twig and other ones thin like a horsehair brush started skittering all over my face.

I peed myself a little.

I flailed around, trying to get it off me. I dropped my sword and hit my knee on another sarcophagus – damn and splinter all furniture made at perfectly knee-height! – as I scrambled and screeched. Eventually, I smacked my head against the stone casket, bludgeoning it to death and nearly poking one of my eyes out with one of its legs.

I think I also concussed myself a little because I was seeing stars.

Wee, world go round.

A worthy sacrifice for a dead bristle spider. Wait, are those stars really there? I blinked. Once. Twice. A few more times, just to be sure.

I wasn’t sure. If I had anything worth swearing on, I would. But I don’t. There was some twinkling going on, but if that was just inside my head or not, I couldn’t say.

Hopes I thought I’d choked in my sleep boiled back to the surface again.

This is just night, right?

If I wait a bit, there will be light.

A sunrise.

Time will go on; I won’t be stuck in this godsdamn nightmare. The dream will be over and all this will go by.

And then I saw it. First outlines of branches on a tree and frizzy foliage, followed by a – definitely! – yellow glaze: it was light.

Somewhere far away it shone, on a hill of sorts, maybe. I wanted in that moment nothing more than to run after it and catch it by its tail. With the state my body was in, I could of course not run at all, and the aches helped me quickly forget the idea of leaping forward into the dark.

Ow. Running bad.

Still, the way it illuminated the branches of a faraway tree made me think a vibrant angel had finally heard my pleas and descended from the city of gods.

Or it could just be a sunrise. Oh, that would be wonderful.

I settled on “maybe a torch”. The wrong dose of hope could be a poison.

At least I’m closer to my goal now. Get to the light, find out what’s on the pendant, wake up. Just gotta keep it steady. Keep it steady. Stay calm like the ocean.

It wasn’t easy. The crunch of bristle spider in my mouth was followed by - urgh - the taste again.

Chewy.

Odd, how that was helping me anchor myself in the here and now. The texture and taste were hard to keep off of my mind.

But so was the light.

I finished the rest of the spider and, scrambling almost, I settled into a quick walk that had me tripping over anything I was too slow to react against as it came into my vision.

Which were a few things, and I was neither quick nor perceptive.

Ow. No shoes. Right.

Running on stone barefoot was only a good idea if it was an even and flat flagstone and I was going much too quick for walking safely in the dark.

I stubbed all my toes. It was one of many hints to slow down. I took it, then sped up again when I got impatient.

Taking one step, then another, then a few hundred more, the ground steadily gave way to a disorderly collection of cobbled stone and neat stone caskets.

Embarrassing, I thought to myself, as I got up from tripping for the fourth time.

Who leaves all their sarcophagi and graves lying around, on the ground, sunk into it and over half of them opened as well?

Not undead! Nope. Crazy irresponsible people, that’s who. I wouldn’t entrust my body to people with this kind of shoddy work ethic. Not that anyone had much power over that choice when they were dead.

I was just glad that they hadn’t been, well, occupied. Lived in. Hah, puns. They’ll be the life and death of me.

Still, there was now dirt both muddy and loose stuck in my everything.

After brushing off some muck, which absolutely didn’t make me feel any cleaner, just less dirty, I looked around for the light again. It was hard, as I had to crane my neck up and around, until I noticed the yellow haze some hundred-odd feet above me.

Ugh. I’m going to have to climb this. Or find a better path. Either way, I’ll have a better view from the top. I need to get to the top. Before the light goes out. After all, who says it won’t?

Hold on, is it moving away from me?

I took a quick step forward, and stumbled on something, again. Except this time, I couldn’t raise my good hand quick enough, and I ate dirt. Again.

At least I managed to fall on my good side.

I staggered back up. Standing up was quite a lengthy ordeal, giving me the time to get a good look at what I had stumbled over this time.

It was a bundle of something, as large as a gravestone. It took on one of the many shades of black in my vision and whatever it was, it didn’t feel hard as a rock when I fell over it. More… bony.

Then, it stood up.

“Gah!” I staggered back, as the creature rose to about my height, maybe a bit taller.

Definitely taller. It’s a person! Gods, it’s somebody! Y-you, I, uh…

My mind was blanking as they just stood there, not even looking in my direction. They had a thin frame, as if malnourished or unclothed. Possibly both. Not everyone was blessed enough to have been buried with armor and whatever I was wearing underneath.

They didn’t seem to register my presence at all as they just kept staring out into the void.

“U…gurkh.” I said.

My throat immediately started hurting again, but I seemed to have grabbed their attention as they slowly shuffled around, facing me. I couldn’t make out any other features in the dark, but I had to try to say something.

“He…lo?” I managed to croak out.

They’re just standing there. Looking in my direction.

At me?

Not sure.

I was getting anxious, anxious enough that I just stood there for a good while as well, as if paralyzed.

There was something that felt… off about them. I gulped gathering all my courage and took a step forward.

If I’m closer, I’ll be able to see them better. Maybe they’re sick? Maybe we can help each other?

As I got to within an arms length, I saw their face. Emaciated, wrinkled, like someone alive way past their time. It had swirls and looked more like tree bark than any human skin, sunken eyes filled with cataracts like white worms. Honestly, If this wasn’t the first honest to gods person I came across, I’d have screamed and run for it.

As it stood, I was just shocked. I only took one half step backwards.

They’re like me. They probably also just woke up in their grave, confused and alone, and are wandering around aimlessly in this endless nightmare-scape. Wait, do I look like them too? A walking, mummified corpse?

They’re moving. Picking something up. Did they drop something?

“W…ai…” I stuttered, but I noticed the rock in their hands too late. It hit me, straight in the side of my head, and I was seeing stars again as I tumbled backwards.

Wait. Wait, wait, WAIT! Why are you attacking me? Don’t do that, it makes me dizzy. Hurts. Hurts a lot. Say something. Say something, this is all a misunderstanding, c'mon say something!

“W…ai…t. Do..n’t!” I felt my voice seize up again and as I tried getting up, a weight descended onto me as they straddled my chest, hands held to the sky as if in prayer.

Then the rock came down like divine judgement, hitting me in the head again. Everything was wobbling, like swimming through mud. I could feel my heartbeat behind my ears, taste the dirt on my tongue and blood, too. Iron. Copper. Metal. Bad.

N-no. NO! No, don’t kill me!

They raised their arms again, slowly. I aimlessly flailed at them with my right arm, but that didn’t do much. I could barely feel pain anymore, my helmet was the only reason I was still alive. As the rock reached the zenith, I felt a primal fear lock on to my heart.

NO! NO! NO! STOP! STOP! STOP!

I raised my other hand, the one with the sword in it, but it was too long and heavy.

I couldn’t point the tip at them, so I did the only thing I could and as their arms tensed up, I pressed the blade’s edge against the side of their belly.

With all the might that was still left within me, I pulled it back.

There was a horrendous, guttural scream, as they dropped their rock – it landed on my face, of course – and doubled over.

That’s what you GET, you stupid, murderous, ungrateful sack of evil shit!

The pain and the fear pumping through my veins filled every point of perception and had my body acting before my mind could catch up.

I dropped my sword and grabbed the rock that had just crushed my nose. I grasped it tightly and with a crack, hit them right in the head. They fell over to the side, moaning in pain. The pressure on my chest lessened.

I have to get up.

I rolled over and coughed, as I saw their prone form, sputtering and whining. Seeing them lie there, clutching their sides with one hand and having the gall of reaching for another rock with the other, I felt my bowels empty all pity and compassion I had felt and fill to the brim with rage.

How DARE you! I was just trying to help. And you, you, you a-assault me!

I watched their hand slowly grasp the rock.

Oh, no you don’t!

I kicked them in the side and rolled them over, sitting down on this, this murderers’ chest, like they did to me. I held up my hands and, as I aimed for their face, I saw a glint of light reflected in their eyes and felt a hint of hesitation.

Are you really like me, just confused and afraid? Is this a mistake? Do you regret what you’ve done?

My arm moved before theirs could, as an even louder crack echoed into the darkness. Their body jerked, then went limp beneath me. I was heaving, heavy, raspy breaths.

I have to stand. Stand up. Up!

I couldn’t, but when I felt something warm pooling around my legs, I suddenly did.

My legs were shaking. My face was teary or just sweaty. Both.

My heart was ready to jump out of my chest, armored or not. I didn’t want to cry, but I also did at the same time. That kind of feeling of shame, anger, indignation, betrayal, and sadness, it felt like it was choking me between my heart and head.

I-I. I-they, j-just. I-why! Why!?

The crack still echoed in my mind.

I wanted to think about something, something else, but all that was in my mind was the warm feeling of blood pooling between my legs. My body was on fire, burning.

I wanted to calm down, needed to, so I could process the fact that I had just killed someone. Cracked their head open. Murdered. However, I couldn’t stop shaking. In a way, it was like my body was still brimming with energy and pumping it towards my muscles, anticipating more threats and battles.

But I’m not in danger anymore, am I? I am the danger.

I turned around, looking for my sword. I found it not where I expected, but a few steps to the side. As I went to pick it up by the blade, it moved. Another shadow stepped into my vision.

I looked up.

Human.

Another one.

Larger than me, over a head at least. They took a step towards me. I looked at what they were holding in their hand and doubt and regret turned to rage once more.

That is MY sword!