The Unforgiven & The Dead

The rain lashed down in a slanted silver torrent of an unforgiving frenzy. Thunder rumbled and clashed mercilessly, violently shaking the very foundations of the earth, over and over. Lighting flickered overhead in a sibilant, snapping whisper, momentarily lighting up the graveyard, before it sunk back into the inky blackness of midnight. No matter how hard the rain poured down, it did not disguise the tears trailing endlessly down Miguel's burning cheeks. Guilt wracked up inside of him, finally spilled over into his overwhelmed consciousness, tearing away at his sanity by its very seams. He kept on shaking his head from side to side in gripping torment, trying to speak. In all his woe and torment, the words became silent even before leaving his mind. He rubbed his raw eyes with his muddy hands but could not stem the flooding tears escaping them. Blinking back the tears as best as he was able to, knelt on his knees, Miguel lifted his weary head from shame and looked before himself. Lit up by the generous streak of vivid, repetitive lightening, three grave stones loomed tall and ghastly before him, like gray demons clawing for his ankles. Their faces had yet to be dirtied with years of neglect, their engraved names and messages yet to fade in the passing of time. Three names imprinted themselves on his retinas but for one in particular: Jonathan Eversman. More tears came, heavier and faster now and his head hung back down to face shame. A choking sob escaped Miguel's quivering lips as he collapsed weakly onto the sodden grass.
“I am....so....so....sorry.” He croaked, his voice barely audible over the howling wind and pounding rain. “So, so sorry.”
A loud clash of deafening thunder shook the ground and somewhere off in the distance a car alarm sprung into life with its high pitched siren.
“...It wasn't meant to happen that way. You weren't supposed to die, man. Same with you and your family. Just wasn't supposed to happen that way. Should've just given us your wallet. We only wanted your cash. Wasn't supposed to die. Why'd you jump in front of the gun? See, Phil panicked and shot you. Then he started flapping and shot your wife and kid. No one was supposed to get hurt. Please forgive me. Please...” Miguel's voice cracked and the words trailed off into silence.
A shrill beeping awoke Miguel from his senseless pleading as it sounded out above the rain and wind in a shrieking warble. Sitting back on his knees at the foot of the grave, Miguel reached into his sodden jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone. The screen was lit up bright green. Calling... Unknown Number blinked in black, digital writing across the screen. Slowly, as if making his mind up whether to answer the call or not, Miguel hit the red key and the shrill calling tone cut out. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, the tears and breathlessness came again, never really ending. More thunder rumbled angrily overhead and the lightening colored the world an electric azure blue albeit briefly.
“....Please....forgive....me.” Miguel whispered but his words were ripped away by the fierce winds.
Again, the high warble of his cell phone broke through the stormy calling of the night, the phone vibrating against his thigh. Growling inwardly, Miguel yanked the cell phone from his pocket. Calling... Unknown Number. Hitting the green key, Miguel pressed the speaker flat up against his ear.
“Who is this?!” He growled into the transmitter.
“This is Mr J. Eversman...” The husky voice whispered back, dripping in vile sinistry.
Gasping, Miguel, angry and panicking, threw his phone as far as he could and it landed within the tree-line a few yards away. Miguel then, bent his head to a new sound. It was not thunder nor the tainted crackling of lightening. It sounded more like... wood breaking, slowly. Miguel's head snapped up to the grave before him. The earth was hastily raising up until two arms abruptly broke through the layers of mud. Miguel flinched but carried on watching the bizarre scene in disbelief as it unfolded before himself. A ghastly, hauntingly pale blue head now appeared above the opening in the ground. Terror mounted in droves upon Miguel. He recognized that face anywhere, even in the lightening's shadow.
“...And you are not forgiven!” The voice hissed.
The corpse's hands latched onto Miguel's ankles, sending him reeling backwards, and started dragging him towards the opening in the earth. Miguel screamed in utmost terror as his body slid along the wet grass with ease, his voice clashing with the thunder raging overhead. The head and arms of Mr Eversman had slowly but surely disappeared beneath the black chasm that led to the grave, along with Miguel's disappearing feet. He tried in vain to claw at the grass, dragging up clots of mangled mud, to hold on but could feel himself slipping further still. Buried up to his waist and he could feel no footing beneath his legs that were out of sight, drawn into the yawning mouth of the darkened void. Desperately now and he started to struggle vigorously. Adrenaline surged through his body at nerve burning speed. Every clot of earth that came up in his hands was quickly discarded and his hands plunged back down into the earth trying to find something, anything that would stop his descent. No matter how hard he tried, Miguel did not prevail. His mid-drift was leaning into the gaping abyss, his shoulders and head just visible above its ragged edge. Miguel raked his figures through the damp, boggy ground and stuck. With apprehension overcoming panic, Miguel let go with one hand, ready to pull himself up. From beyond the abyss came a laugh so merciless and evil, it echoed through the blackness of the chasm, off the trees and died cackling long into the night. When, in a split second, Miguel had lifted up his hand, he knew he had made his last mistake. A fatal mistake. A tug of leviathan strength and the earth beneath his one remaining, firmly grasped hand broke free. Miguel slid into the inky, clinging darkness of the chasm with an ear splitting shriek.
A ferocious clash of thunder rumbled through the air, static lightening struck a nearby tree, sending the branches into aflame. The hole in the ground slowly started to heal until it took back its original form as if it had never been. And the storm raged on.