Chapter One Of Dead Raiser

     1: The Rising Dead  

 

A tall dark haired girl walked through a cemetery.

 It was around midnight in Camberley, mist trailed across the ground like insubstantial tendrils. She felt the mist dampened leaves beneath her boots. Her dark eyes moved from headstone to headstone, looking for the correct grave. She glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand and checked again, her eyes straining to see in the dim light generated by the moon. She drew to a stop as she neared a crumbling and decaying headstone; ivy choked the grass around it and crawled along the pockmarked stone.

  She slipped the sheet of paper into her canvas shoulder bag, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips; finally, after such a long time and a lot of effort, she had found it. She dipped her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out an old black leather bound book. She flipped to the page marked with a piece of red ribbon and, by the faint moonlight, read the spidery writing. The book was about the Dark Arts, like Necromancy and other forms of Death Magic. She nodded to herself and put the book back in her pocket, taking out a piece of chalk as she did. She knelt down in front of the grave, leaf litter crumpling beneath her, and began to draw complex symbols on the ground directly above the coffin.

  The symbols glowed, emitting an eerie white light. She spoke in a quiet voice imbued with power.

  “Earth open, earth crumble, earth crack, earth split. Dead awake, dead walk, dead talk. Life resume, life return, life begin, life start.” She slammed the palm of her hand down on the central symbol. The ground before her began to shudder and shake, a large crevice opening up. After a few moments all was still, she frowned, a few more minutes passed and still nothing happened. Had all her preparations been for nothing? A few more moments trickled by and still nothing happened so she climbed to her feet.

  She was about to turn and leave when the ground exploded with a blast of dark energy, sending sticks and dirt flying. A skeletal arm dressed in tattered rags extended from the ground, seeming to be groping for the moon. She took a step back as another arm exploded from the ground, followed by the skull and shoulders. The skull glinted dully in the faint moonlight, the hollows casting dark shadows; dirt tumbled from the eye sockets, nose, jaw and ears.

  The skull swivelled to her slowly, looking at her through hollow sockets. She cleared her throat, finding her voice after a moment of shock.

“Can you hear and understand me?” The skull tipped forwards in what appeared to be a bleary nod.

“Yes, I can both hear and understand you.” The voice was croaky and distorted from disuse, though the words were recognisable enough. She nodded with satisfaction.

“Do you need some help getting the rest of yourself out?” She asked, peering at the skeleton who was still half buried.

“Yes, that would be nice.” The skeleton spoke with a nod, holding its arms out for her to take hold of. She took hold of the bony hands and heaved, feeling some of the smaller bones bite into her skin a bit, it took a while but the skeleton was eventually extracted from the ground.

“Well, never in my life did I expect to wake up six feet under!” The skull tilted a little. “Though, Death Magic is very dark magic. Why is a little girl like you using it?”

  She scowled. “I’m not little. I was using it because when my parents died, my aunt and uncle should have told me the family secret. They didn’t, they burnt all of the letters my parents left for me.” The skeleton stopped in the middle of dusting the dirt from the rags in an attempt to tidy himself up.

  “And who are your parents?” The voice had a soft note in it, his voice was clear enough now to tell that the skeleton was indeed a man. She sighed. “They were Shawn and Violet Martin.” She glanced up at him. “You are related to them, right?”

The skeleton nodded. “Yes, Shawn is my great, great, ah, very great grandson. I’m Tristan by the way, who are you?” She blinked in surprise. “Very great grandson?” She echoed, letting it sink in for a moment. “Oh, my name’s Ivy.” Tristan nodded again, she guessed he didn’t have much in the way of expression now. “Yes, very great grandson. Thank you for, ah, bringing me back from the dead by the way. Even if that kind of magic is highly prohibited.” He sounded cheerful yet somehow serious at the same time.

  Ivy looked down. “Yeah, I thought it might have been. What happens now? Do you know the family secret?” She really hoped she wasn’t pushing her luck with the last question. Tristan’s head tilted.

  “Hmm, well, I suppose since you meant no harm it’ll be alright. And yes, I do know the family secret though I’d much prefer to tell you somewhere much safer. The sun is rising and I should not like to try explaining myself to anyone.” Ivy already knew what he was going to ask before he even spoke, “Why don’t you take me to wherever you’re living now?” She nodded, agreeing since he had nowhere else to live anymore. “Excellent, lead the way then.”

                                                                                                                            

This is the first chapter of Dead Raiser, if anyone wants to ask anything about it or the rest of the story, ask away.