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Alain DeLaCendres
Member

since 1999-07-02

Posts 119
Ohio

0 posted 1999-08-05 01:45 AM

*note: sorry, I'm posting faster than I'm commenting, but I promise I will catch up. Thanks. (3090 words in this one)

My name is Steve. Steve Hutloy. I dig graves for a living. Not for the living, for a living.
Haha, funny joke right? Anyway, I guess I've got a story to tell you. No one in their right
mind would believe this, so I suppose that's why I'm writing it down. I know if I were to
tell any one my story, I'd find myself in a padded room with a backwards jacket strapped
to me quicker than you could count to five. And that's not some where I exactly want to
be, you understand what I'm saying? I have too much to live for to spent the rest of my life
in one of those rooms, but if I want to stay at least relatively sane, I guess I need to tell
someone my story. I ain't exactly a world class writer, but I think I can at least write good
enough for you to understand me. So bear with will you please? If I bore you or lose you,
I'm sorry. This is going to be hard for me, because I'm going to want to ramble, and if I do
that, I know I'll lose you. Well, enough putting this off, here I go.

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As I told you already, I did graves for a living. It's not exactly the best job in the world, or
the easiest either, but it puts food on my table and keeps a roof over my head. I ain't got
no family to worry about, and I guess that's all the better. I'd never be able to feed a wife
and kids on the measly pay I get from digging. I'll most likely end up with some sort of
back trouble that'll put me out of work and I might end up on disability, but I'll worry
about all that when it comes. Right now, I'm only twenty nine, and I'm in the prime of my
health. I ain't fell ill with a bug of any kind for quite a while now. And there's no history of
mental illness in my family, so throw that idea out you head right now. I'm just a simple
country boy who likes to live simple. The simpler life is for me, the better. Well, only
trouble is, life hasn't been quite so simple lately.
Now, I've been digging graves since I was twenty six; for three years. Grave digging isn't
exactly eventful work, I usually do it alone; which takes longer, but I don't mind; and
nothing unexpected ever happens. I can dig the holes when ever it tickles my fancy to do
it, night day, whatever, just so long as I get it done on time. Sure, they give me a front
loader and a few other fancy digging machines, but I prefer to do most of the digging by
myself unless the soil gets too tough for me. I remember when I first started digging
graves. I used to get kind of scared. I'm not sure why, but I did. Then I started thinking of
the digging as ironic. Here I was, a living man, making a living and feeding myself through
some poor chaps misfortune. I made a living on people dying. But then I got over that,
and now I just do my job and think as little as I can. It's work, and that's all that matters.
In all my three years of digging graves, I never had to deal with anything strange, until
three weeks ago that is. But let me start at the beginning of the story so you can
understand.
On a Monday three weeks ago, at around seven in the evening, I arrived at the graveyard
to start digging a grave. It had been unusually hot for an autumn day, so I had decided
to wait until the evening when the sun was going down and it would be cooler. They never
tell me who the graves are for, that's none of my business; but I found out later that the
grave I was going to start digging was for a man by the name of Roland Tempes. Now
there's a connection to be laid with that name I suppose, but I'll get to that when the time
comes. It didn't matter who the grave was for, all that mattered was that I was getting paid
to dig it. And dig it I did. I finished it in two days, a day ahead of schedule. Now don't get
me wrong, there was nothing strange or special about the grave yet. Nothing unusual
happened while I was digging it, in fact, things went better than usual. I used the front
loader a little more than usual because the ground was a little hard, but other than that, all
went as I had planned it would.
The funeral was held on that Thursday. I never attend that funerals that I dig the graves
for, but out of simple respect I always stand on the hill and watch. When you stand on the
hill behind the grave yard, you can see the whole place clearly. I watched the funeral for
this guy Roland Tempes from the hill like usual. There wasn't nothing different about the
people that attended the funeral that I could tell. But then I was stand on the hill, about
two hundred yards from where the grave was. I talked to the reverend later, and he said
that the people had seemed strange to him. When I asked his how so, he just kind of
looked away and mumbled that he didn't know why they had seemed different, they just
had. Well, old Reverend Dughin wasn't usually one to exaggerate, so I guess I believed
him. I asked one of the pall bearers what he had thought, and he just said that they were
very nice people and had taken him to lunch after the funeral, so he had nothing against
them. I asked him if he had thought they was strange at all, and he just looked at me like I
had just asked the dumbest question on Earth. No there wasn't nothing strange about
them, where would I ever get such an insane idea? Now it was my turn to look away and
mumble that I didn't know.
Sorry, I just got ahead of myself. I didn't question the reverend and the pall bearer until
after I had been hired to start digging the grave back up. Seems the family decided they
was going to move away and they wanted Roland's dead body to come along for the ride.
They were moving to some far away state, but I don't suppose where they was moving to
makes a difference one way or another. All that matters is that the family was moving, and
I had to dig the still fresh grave back up. I started digging Mr. Tempes back up on a
Wednesday. He had only been in the ground for six days. Well, what did I care? I didn't
care what they did with Mr. Tempes, just so long as I got paid for digging him back up.
And I was getting paid for it, so I started digging and didn't ask no questions. Everything
went as it normally does for the first day. I might have dug that hole in two days the first
time, but I had hoped I'd finish the re-dig in a single day because now the soil all loose and
it would be easier to dig it all back up. But my back gave me a spot of trouble that day,
and the digging when slower than I had planned. I had gotten a little over halfway down
and had to quit. So, I came back the next day around six o'clock to finish the job.
Now, when I got there the next day, that was when things started getting a little strange.
The grave had been in the back of the graveyard, so I doubt if many people had noticed
the excavation of Mr. Tempes I had started yesterday, not that anyone would care if they
had noticed. I stood at the edge of that gaping hole, and I saw something I'd never seen
before in my life. I had dug down halfway like I told you, so there was still three feet of
dirt before I would get to the coffin. And I had dug the hole myself, so I knew it was six
foot deep because I always measure the holes. Now, coffins are air tight, and what's in
them is supposed to be dead, right? Okay, I'd say it's safe to say that you will agree with
me on that score. Anyway, when I looked down into the hole, the coffin lid was open,
pushed upwards through the remaining three feet of dirt, and the coffin itself was empty.
My first thought was vandals. But as I stood there over that grave thinking about it, I knew
it wasn't vandals just as sure as I know my name is Steven Matthew Hutloy. Here's how I
knew it wasn't vandals: (1) I live right behind the graveyard in a small trailer and I would
have heard the vandals. I'd caught vandals on two other occasions, so I was pretty positive
I would have heard the vandals if that's what it had been. (2) The dirt that I hadn't dug up
the day before was still there. Now, if vandals had opened that coffin, they would have had
to of dug down through the remaining dirt to get to the coffin; and all the dirt was there, it
was quite clear there had been do digging since I had stopped digging the day before. It
looked as if someone had been inside that coffin and had awakened during the night and
just pushed the lid open. I started laughing when I thought that. It was the most unlikely
thing. Then I got a mental picture of this not yet decomposed dead man pushing open his
coffin lid, and I had to sit down I was laughing so hard. If anyone would have seen me,
they would have thought I was crazy, sitting there beside an open grave laughing until I
was crying. When I had myself under control again, I took another look down into the
grave. The image of a man pushing his coffin lid open resurfaced, but this time it wasn't
funny. It wasn't funny because that's exactly what it looked like.
I'll admit that I got scared. I left and went downtown to the little diner on the corner,
Mary's Hometown Grill it's called, and ordered myself a big hamburger and some French
fries with an iced tea. But by the time I got the food, I wasn't hungry no more. I had only
went to that diner as an excuse to get out of that graveyard, and I knew it. Kathy, one of
the waitresses, came and sat down by me. She asked me if anything was wrong, and I told
her everything was just fine. She gave me a look that told me she knew I was lying to her,
because a man didn't just order a hamburger and fries with an iced tea then sit there and
stare at it. Kathy knew I wasn't a rich guy, and she knew that I don't just go around
blowing my money. She knew something was wrong, but I wasn't going to tell her what.
She finally gave up and patted me on the shoulder and said if I felt like talking any time
soon that I knew where to find her. I told her thanks, but I had no plans of telling her
anything, partly because I didn't know what was going on myself, and partly because I
didn't think she'd believe me if I told her what I thought.
That was when I went and talked to Reverend Dughin and the pall bearer (his name was
Roy Gilfred if it makes a difference to you, which I doubt it does). After talking to
Reverend Dughin and Roy, I went back up to the grave to have another look. I half
expected to see it still open, but another part of me insisted it was all just my imagination.
By the time I got back up to the grave it was around eight o'clock. Well, when I looked
into that hole I saw that the coffin was only part way open now, and I could see the
elbows of the suit Mr. Tempes was wearing, and they were smudged with dirt. Now I tell
you, I almost messed my pants. I was scared then. I had another mental image, this one of
Mr. Tempes crawling back into his coffin and pulling the lid back into place as well as he
could get it. I almost ran away screaming, but I controlled myself and ran away silently. I
kept running until I was safely back in my trailer with the door locked and bolted and all
the curtains were drawn.
By seven in the evening on the next day, I had persuaded myself that I was acting foolish
and had imagined the whole thing. Silly me, right? Well, I went back to finish the job at
half past seven. The sun was still peaking from above the tree line, but it was almost ready
to bid the world goodnight. I looked down into the hole with my hands tightly wrapped
around the handle of my shovel, and felt relief. The coffin lid was gone, buried back under
the remaining dirt where it belonged, but it was undeniably clear that the soil had been
moved around since my last time digging. I dismissed it and went back to work. Within
fifteen minutes, I had struck the lid of the coffin. I cleared all the dirt away from it so that
when the guys came to lift it out they wouldn't make a mess with the dirt. After I finished
freeing the coffin from the dirt, I stepped back to take in the scene. I looked closely at the
coffin lid, and I saw that is was open only the slightest crack. I wrapped my knuckles on
the lid, half expecting an answer. But I thankfully didn't get one. I tried to lift the lid, and it
resisted for a second, but I when I put a bit more strength into it the lid popped right open.
Inside was Mr. Tempes, dead as a door nail, with his hands resting on his chest just like
every other person in coffins. Nothing strange, just a dead guy. I watched him for a
second just to make sure he wasn't breathing. He wasn't. I felt his face with the back of my
hand and he was as cold as a dead fish; or a dead person, take your pick. Haha right? Well,
he might have been cold, he might not have been breathing, but that didn't stop him from
opening his eyes.
His eyes were all red with only a black pupil to interrupt. When I looked down and saw
those eyes, there was no controlling myself, this time I did scream. And I screamed loud. I
screamed until my throat would scream no more. The dead hands reached up and one
circled around my throat while the other clamped my mouth shut. I went right on
screaming even with that dead hand over my mouth. I only stopped screaming because he
surprised me by speaking.
" ' Now Mr. Hutloy, you mustn’t scream so, it not gentleman like.' he said. I swear to
the great God above that his voice echoed when he spoke. I know it sounds nuts, but his
voice honestly echoed. 'I understand that you're terribly scared Mr. Hutloy, but please, have
a sense of pride. I'm not going to kill you, that's not my intention at all. I just need a little
snack before I start my trip to my new home, that's all. There's no way I could make it all
the way there without a drink, no way at all. I'm sure you understand, don't you Mr.
Hutloy?' Then he started laughing. Dead man laughing, funny, huh? You should have been
there, it wasn't funny at all. 'I am sorry Mr. Hutloy, of course you don't understand, how
silly of me.' And he just kept on laughing like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
That was when he bit me. He was still laughing when he bit me. You know, when I used
to watch those movies with vampires in them, I had always wondered what it would have
felt like to be bitten. Well, now that I know, I wish I didn't. It hurts. And to be totally
honest, I was so scared that I was going to die while he was biting me that I wet myself.
Me, Steven Hutloy, a twenty nine year old man, wet his pants. Tempes must have noticed
because he started laughing again. it was a muffled sound because his teeth were in my
neck for Christ's sake, but it was a laugh all the same. I blacked out before he finished
biting me.

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Well, there it is. That's my story. I know by now you most likely think I am terribly
insane. Well, think what you want, I know what happened. Being bitten by a vampire isn't
exactly a goal I had set in my life, but it happened. Until now, I had never thought of
vampires as anything more than myths, but now I know better. And now that I know
vampires really do exist, I have to wonder how many of the other "myths" are true...
7:05pm / 8-4-99

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Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le couer oublie.

[This message has been edited by Alain DeLaCendres (edited 08-05-99).]

leelew
Member

since 1999-07-10

Posts 89
highmount,ny,usa

1 posted 1999-08-05 08:51 AM

Great story Alain!!Keep me on the edge.

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"There are none so blind as those who see only with the mind and not the heart"

Nicole
Senior Member

since 1999-06-23

Posts 1835
Florida

2 posted 1999-08-05 03:33 PM

I very much enjoy the way you tell a story! I look forward to more.

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"Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with." *Mark Twain*

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