Not Living Anymore
I own nothing... duh!!
A body slammed into a cript door and fell on the ground when the door collapsed. Confused, Eric, a man of about 25 years old with curly black hair, stood up on shaky legs and took a good look around him.
The last thing he remembered was saving Sarah, then falling to unconsciousness before an angel in the form of Shelly. Now, he was standing against a cript in a strange cemetary. He still wore the same leather pants and shirt as he had when he had died for a second time… or not. He was still there after all. He couldn’t see himself, but he had a pretty good guess that he still wore the makeup that had plagued four man with nightmares… or would have if they had lived long enough to actually sleep.
Why did he came back? Why was he still alive?
He turned around when he heard the cry of a bird. There, sitting still on a low branch, was a big black bird : a crow. He groaned. [Why me?]
Eric followed the crow as it led him to another part of the cemetary. It stopped its fly on top of a fresh grave. He crouched down in front of it and looked at the inscription.
Willow Ann Rosenberg
(1981 – 2000)
She gave life a little touch of magic.