Bury Me Shallow.

Spirit Weaver woke up dead. Quite an oxymoron, yes. One couldn’t just… wake up dead, could they? At least that wasn’t something that made sense to her. She’d read the phrase once in a novel and couldn’t stifle the laugh that came afterwards. And yet…. Here she was. She woke up. She was dead. This must have just been one of those out of body experiences that she’d heard about. She was some ways above the ground, the forest floor damp below her. In the brush was where she lay. She could hardly see herself but she knew she was there. After all… it was her grave, right? Of course she could recognize her own body. Even if there was fungus growing out of every wound. Even if she was covered in multitude of vines, looking like they had lashed her to the ground itself. It almost seemed fitting, too. She did so much for the world. She fought for the sake of the world. For the sake of everyone in it. It was… only fair that even in death she’d give back to it. She would feed the trees. Feed the scavengers. And then, she’d be naught but another set of bones. Another warning to stay away from the forest. A mental sigh. How did she end up here? What… happened to her? All she remembered was… pain. Searing across her chest. A bright red light, inches from her face. And then… darkness. And then she woke up. Dead. Woke up dead. Even still, she couldn’t stop the giggle. Was this how it ended? In death was she truly a nobody? A faceless nothing in the woods? Just another statistic. It was laughable. But… well. That laugh stopped. It still hadn’t quite settled in. She was…. She was dead. Wasn’t she? She’d not see anyone anymore. No more of her friends. She wouldn’t get to cook. She wouldn’t get to play any stupid pranks. How long would it take for them to know she was gone? Would they miss her? Would anyone look for her? No. They wouldn’t. She was just the Witch. Many would celebrate her passing, she was sure. Finally their children were safe from the freak in the woods. Finally they could breathe easy knowing she wasn’t around to cause harm. Surely she was cursing them merely by existing. A tear rolled down her cheek. Did she even have cheeks? Could she cry? She felt a tightness in her non-existant throat. She wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. Sorrow encased her. She really was…. Nothing. She was nobody. She felt the chill of the void. It was her time, truly. She was being called away. Her mind was slowly slipping away. Silence echoed. Her last thoughts. She clawed to stay. Fought tooth and nail to think of something. Anything. And then…. Spirit woke up. Pointedly not dead. Her heart was hammering in her chest, sending her blood coursing through her. Adrenaline filled her veins, and she would force herself to a stand. She wiped a cold sweat from her brow, and would look down at herself. She was…. Her. For sure. The gauze wrapped around her chest probably needed to be changed. But…. she was alive. They weren’t getting rid of her that easily. Spirit was still here. And she wasn’t going to go gently into that goodnight. Her breath was shaky, though. And tears were still welled into her eyes. How were her friends doing? Maybe she could… find an excuse to visit someone. She had felt enough lonesomeness for one day....