SHALLOW

I was buried in a shallow grave.  A dog found me while its owner was taking him for a walk while simultaneously jogging. I could feel his wet nose press against my skin and hear his bark to his master signaling that he had found something peculiar. A quick gasp and a shout and I could tell the jogger had found me. I could hear him dialing on his cell phone telling 911 that he had found a dead body, on the jogging trail in Central Park. The sirens soon began to pierce my ears and as they got closer and closer I became anxious. I tried to speak to let them know I was in fact still alive, but no sound escaped me. I tried to move but there was nothing.

Panic set in, as I hear doors slamming and other voices I just know they would take me to the morgue thinking I am already dead. I felt a sudden heat over my face and quickly realized someone was breathing over me. I felt plastic fingers checking for a pulse and orders being shouted to get a gurney over here now. The technician’s voice soothed me as he let someone else know there was a pulse but it was thready. I could hear metal clicking together as the weight of the dirt was lifted off of me. Now exposed completely to the world I felt naked but knew help was here to help me. Pain seared my arms and legs as they very slowly lifted me out of the earth the twigs and leaves scraping my already damaged skin.

I was lifted up and then placed on something soft and comfortable. Then slammed into the back of the ambulance, my body jolted but being this close to death I no longer felt it. The siren started again as I was raced to the hospital all the while I could hear the EMT’s and what I am assuming a police officer conversing. I caught snippets of the conversation as I went in and out of consciousness. There was something about a serial killer, still on the loose, and I had been the seventh body to be found. According to the officer, I was the only one he had left alive, and judging by the way he had left me he thought I was dead.

What they do not know is that I can’t die. Something happened in the midst of my death. I stepped away from my body and as I watched the blood pour out of me and the killer smile his evil smile as he buried me in my shallow grave I was visited by an Angel. One that was there to take me away but my refusal to do so left him intrigued and so he gifted me with the ability to walk between the veil of life and death. To be able to snatch life away and bring death down upon the earth if I so chose to or vice versa. As the ambulance stopped I was rushed to the hospital soon there were needles being poked in my arm I.V. drips being added. I spent the next several weeks going in and out of consciousness waiting for the day I cold open my eyes and speak.

Today I was released, I gave my statement to the nice policeman and as I listen to them all say it was a miracle that I survived I know now why I had. I was meant for more than just being a victim. I was meant to right the wrongs, and punish those slip past the law. I was plastered all over the news so by now my, would be killer knows he fucked up. He should have really checked for a pulse before he left me there like a dog to die, and now I know his name as well. I now walk the night in the shadows of life and death, that is my purpose. I round the corner of the alley where he first grabbed, a wicked smile curves my mouth as the moonlight shines down on me. I am watching, waiting, for my murder and I whisper, in the dark “Come to me, my sweet death awaits you, and I am she!”

 

 

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/shallow/”>Shallow</a&gt;

TRADITIONAL

According to the dictionary, TRADITION is – the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, etc.

It also says that TRADITIONAL is – existing in, or as part of a tradition, long-established.

Is it safe to say then that not all traditions are good? When you think of traditions being passed down from generation to generation. From family member to family member. For the most part, it is something good. It is something that builds a legacy. It is the way you were raised that you take with you and continue on. For example, the way we celebrate the holidays. How many of you out there celebrate the way you do because that is the way your parents taught you? How many of you out there say, “I do this because it is the way I was raised!” It becomes the “traditional” thing in your family and so you continue on, but like I said before not all traditions are good are they?

Like the way we see, the world, the way we speak to one another, the way we treat other people. It is all based on some sort of traditional value that you were raised with. It is up to you to break that cycle and change tradition. It is up to you to make new traditions, and it is a hard road, an uphill battle that you sometimes don’t think you can win, but it is worth it in the end.

We are always told from an early age that our parents want more for us than what they had. At least I was and yet, the bar was set pretty low. It was never about things for me. Hell, I could have lived in a shack with dirt floors for all I care. All I ever wanted was to be seen, as a person, not an obligation. A sense of self- loathing and never being loved. That is the traditional values I grew up with and carried with me into adulthood!

That is also the traditional values I have been trying to rectify ever since. You see I didn’ t grow up in a house full of warm and cozy traditions. However, I learned through all the pains of the traditions I did grow up with that it is not a tradition I wanted my kids to carry with them. What traditional values do you want to leave behind to be passed down from generation to generation?

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/traditional/”>Traditional</a&gt;