Category : Stories

Sub Category : Horror

Even though no other body was moving, I still heard the voices. I did the most drastic thing to get rid of them, and I still heard the fucking voices! All I wanted was to be free of all the sick thoughts. Turns out, even in death I can hear their minds.
 I went digging in the cemetery late at night. I could swear someone was stirring in their grave. I combed the field of stones and corpses with my flashlight. Sure enough, a mound of dirt under the tombstone labeled (Jerry Vanboot) was throbbing.
"Son of a bitch!"
 I walked over to the grave and watched the pulsating rhythm of the mound. Then a hand thrusted it way out of the dirt and I bent down to grab it. With momentum and force, I ripped Mr.Vanboot out of his grave.
"What the literal fuck, Jerry?"
 Jerry's freshly uprooted corpse simply gave me a look of utter confusion.
"You're all suppposed to be dead, understand? That means no fucking noise!"
 Jerry opens his mouth with a cracking sound from his jaw. He tries to make words and yet only utters, "uuuuhhh." 
"It's a wonder why you even think you are worth listening to."
 I took a deep breath to calm myself. Then in the next breath, I began viciously stomping in Jerry's skull and chest.
"Just be fucking silent!"
 A chatter arose throughout the cemetery. Many minds were surfing across the invisible waves of thought, scattered throughout all corners of the graveyard. My own mind was racing trying to simultaneously decipher the thoughts and block them out. No, I don't want these depraved and pathetic thoughts. The sickness was just lying there rotting away pure logic. I had to set this place on fire.
 So I walked up to the house on the hill behind the cemetery. It use to be the caretaker's home. He was a nice old man outside his thoughts. Inside however, he dreamed often of dead girls. The kind that use to be sweet and innocent. Plagued by those sick thoughts, I payed the caretaker a visit. He refused to stop thinking those sick things or even acknowledge he had them. So I took an axe to him. That shut him up, but only for awhile. In his grave, the caretaker kept thinking those horrible things. I dug up his coffin and once again I gave him the axe. This time hacking and hacking till my arms grew tired. I kept yelling with each wack that I didn't want to see his sickness.
 I made my way to the caretaker's shed. Inside was the gardening utilities and a stock of gasoline for the motorized gardening tools. I grabbed two of those red metal gas cans and began the process of spreading the gas over everyones graves. The dead would be uncommonly warm in their rest that night.
 As I came across Jerry Vanboot's grave again, I paused noticing it was absolutely empty. No dirt, no coffin, no body, just a rectangular hole in the ground. I stared down into the dark filled pit and felt a hand tap my shoulder. I spun around to find the mangled face of Jerry. He grasped my throat tightly, just enough to leave me on the edge of suffocation. The corpse was now able to speak and with a voice never it's own. 
"You killed off every other mind to rid yourself of the sick thoughts. You never understood that thoughts were your own." 
 Jerry tossed me into the open grave. My head hit the ground hard which caused me a state of dizziness. I tried to reach the edge of the grave, but somehow it seemed to have grown much deeper then before. I barely could manage to reach half the way up. Gas began to rain down upon me from the cans Jerry was pouring in. I looked up at the dark figure above me and screamed at it my denials.
"I am not the sick one. The rest of humanity was depraved. I cleansed this world!"
 Jerry lit a match, "Now you shall be cleansed."
 The match came down and the grave went up like a bonfire. I would try to make you believe that I didn't scream in agony, but that would of been an obvious lie.