My first thought, as always, was for the children, for my beloved Todd and Rod, but soon after waking I realised it was wrong— wrong to lying here alone, without Ned beside me; wrong to be awake at all— wrong to be alive. I knew where I was but I felt no fear, the lining of the coffin was soft and silky and I rejoiced in the wisdom of the wrathful God who had willed my dead body to… not live again, quite, but to be animated by my soul. Praise be unto him who, for whatever reason, had bought me back and taken all fear from me! I pushed against the coffin lid and it splintered above me— I was strong! So strong! I pushed both arms through the brittle wood and the heavy earth seemed to part before me, much as I imagine the waters parted for Moses. I swam up through the Lord’s bountiful soil and into the air. My mouth opened to take a breath, but there was no breath, now, just a rattling moan that, I admit, startled me. The yellow skin of my arms was torn, a little, from shattering the coffin, and I knew these wounds would never heal. No matter. I felt purpose stir within me, some urgent need that must be attended. What was it, though? Why had the Lord seen fit to bring me back to this world of sinners? Was this hell? Where was my eternal reward? Thinking of sinners bought my thoughts to the man who had killed me.
Gluttony.
Sloth.
Lust.
Pride.
Greed.
Envy.
He had them all, and how! I’d missed one though, what was it?
Wrath.
I knew, then, God’s purpose for me. I felt it, as deep as the original sin in my bones.
Again my mouth opened, this time with a laugh as dry as pages torn from a Bible, and then a word:
“Brains!”
Lord knows it wouldn’t be much of a feast, the man had little in his head, but it would satisfy my Lord, if not my hunger.
I would eat Homer Simpson’s brain.