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I collect corpses. One of them woke up.

An unpleasant experience

By LimjiPublished about a year ago 4 min read

I know most people find it disturbing, but someone has to do it.

I collect dead bodies. It's something I do every day, and it almost never changes. My colleague gets to the scene first, to do all the prep work. I turn up a while later to transport them where they need to be. Not many people know about what I do, but my lack of conversation about it is not out of shame. I am proud of it, and I simply don't want people to view me any differently.

Usually, everything goes smoothly. I turn up, the body is already concealed in a bag, and I load it into the vehicle. The whole drive is just me and a body in the back, and maybe my colleague on some days. But yesterday, the drive did not go as it should. The events that transpired mean I will live in fear for the rest of my days, and may have to give this up.

I turned up to the scene. It was a fairly large house on the outskirts of town. A guy that lived alone, and never really spoke to anyone. My colleague had probably been the first person to step foot in that house, besides the man himself, in years. I myself, probably the second.

The door had been left unlocked, and I went inside the building. My colleague never leaves the body out in the open, for obvious reasons. Even if the death was outdoors, the body is moved indoors. Sure enough, as usual, a large blue bag full of bumps made the faint outline of a human. It takes a bit of effort to move it into the van, but no more than a few minutes. Picking up a limp, lifeless body is second nature to me. I've been doing it for years.

I got the bag down in the back of the van and drove off. It was dark out, and the roads were empty. This is how I like to drive. I made my way to the opposite end of town.

5 minutes into the journey, I heard a groan from behind me. A raspy, shakey, agonized groan. It was loud and sharp, piercing through the sounds of the night. The fear that shot through me is indescribable. I felt a pit open in my stomach, as every muscle in my body tightened. My hands jolted so hard that I nearly crashed, but I kept control.

The back of the van is too dark to see into, so I grabbed my flashlight from under my chair, and pulled the vehicle to a complete stop. As I shone it into the back, I saw something I had secretly always feared - The bag was sat upright.

I crept closer, trying to be silent. A muffled voice from within the bag spoke, "Hello? Who's there? I can hear you!"

I wasn't sure what to do. My colleague always checks their pulse. Had he made a mistake? He must have.

I slowly unzipped the bag, as the man inside began to scream. We stared at each other, both of our eyes showing the terror within us. His cries echoed beyond the walls of the van, out into the darkness. I wanted to join him and cry myself, as I knew what this meant, but I held it back.

In a blind panic, I took my flashlight and struck the man on the head. I know that's unprofessional, as I didn't want to damage his skull, but it was my first instinct.

It didn't kill him, though. It didn't even knock him out. He fought me, and I wasn't strong enough. He just kept screaming "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!". Why couldn't he be like the rest?

I'm ashamed to admit, he got out. He opened the back doors of the van and got out. He was smart about it, too. He climbed over fences so I could only follow him on foot, to stop me from driving after him. After just 5 minutes, he was far enough ahead that I could no longer hear him, and after 10 more minutes, I knew I had lost him completely.

I phoned up my colleague and told him. We were furious at each other, yet upset with ourselves. How had we both messed up? In my opinion, he's more at fault than me. He usually strangles them properly, how had he messed this one up?

The flashlight to head, even if it had worked, would have still ruined the skull. Strangling is the only way that leaves the body in pristine condition. The way I like it.

I didn't get to add this body to my collection. And for fear of being caught, I may have to stop my hobby of collecting corpses entirely.

slasherurban legendmonsterhalloweenfiction

About the Creator


A horror and Psychology entusiast

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