A restless wind blew across the graveyard.
The green grass twitched by the wind's cold touch. Brown leaves were carried away, off to distant shores.
"Let the dead rest in peace," the vicar spoke.
An elderly woman buried her head in the chest and arms of her husband.
She was not the only one shedding tears for the deceased.
"This man deserves his rest. He is a hero. A fallen hero. A beloved son of God."
A small group of people, all dressed in black, stood beside the casket, which would soon be lowered into the ground.
A young woman stood closest to the brown, wooden casket. Her black dress danced in the cold wind.
She gazed defiantly up at the white sky.
Tears ruined her mascara, smudging the black fluid around her eyes, until it poured down her face like black tears.
She was not afraid to cry.
The man who stood behind her gently touched her face in a gesture of support and comfort, but the girl did not seem comfortable with his touch.
She bowed her head and sobbed; the man hesitantly let go of her black shoulder.
And the vicar went on.
His words seemed to be carried away by the cold wind, echoing across the graveyard.
Finally, the girl couldn't handle it anymore.
She left.
She turned her back on the casket where her lover would sleep forever.
He would never kiss her again.
He would never touch her again.
He would never make her laugh again.
He was gone.
Her pace was slow. She had difficulty walking on the grey stones with her black, high heels.
Her eyes focused on the ground; she did not see what passed over her head.
Like a strange, shapeless liquid this substance seemed to float through the sky, invisible, almost unable to be seen by anyone who gazed at the bright, white sky.
But the substance was there, drawn to this place by some unknown force.
It was not conscious, not sentient, not solid, not real, unable to feel anything, unable to think, unable to see, or hear, anything.
It was floating through the air, flying, gliding, towards the casket.
The elderly woman gasped for breath when she saw this strange phenomenon float towards her son's final resting place, and the girl who'd walked away now gazed back to the funeral she just left.
More gasps followed as more eyes witnessed the strange, white phenomenon; their sounds seemed to merge with the sound of the wind which was blowing through the trees.
The vicar cradled his little book as the substance touched the wooden casket and somehow disappeared.
For a moment everything was silent, except for the wind and the birds, and the cars in the distance.
Unseen, within the darkness of the dead man's casket, the bright cloud of white light surrounded the corpse, until it seemed to merge with it and they became one.
The cloud slowly vanished into thin air, and the corpse's skull started to shine, but that too vanished.
Then the corpse opened his eyes.
His hands and head hit the wooden walls in the darkness ands he started screaming.
Screaming in the darkness where he thought no-one would hear him.
He enraged and exploded inside the casket and attacked the walls around him which locked him inside his worst nightmare.
"That's impossible!" one man spoke, who like everyone else now gazed upon the casket.
The corpse's pounding made the casket tremble and move.
It was an insane attack against the casket's locked lid, which no-one dared to open up.
And everyone heard a muffled voice within the casket, crying for help.
"For the love of God, open it!" someone finally dared to say. "Get him out of there!"
Quickly a few men approached the casket and unlocked it.
Their trembling hands were having difficulty touching the locks as the dead man inside the casket kept on screaming, yelling at the dark and attacking the wooden insides.
"Get me out!" the man cried as sunlight hit his face. "Get me out!"
The girl watched as they touched his black suit and his cold hands , and when they set him down upon the green grass they subtly backed away in fright.
The corpse gasped for breath, clutching his heart in absolute terror.
Everything was spinning, and he backed away from the people surrounding the casket just as they backed away from him.
She stood near the entrance of the graveyard, in the shadow of the church and surrounding trees; she only had eyes for him.
"You're alive…" one of the men spoke ghastly.
"Where am I?" the corpse cried.
The vicar closed his eyes and started to mutter prayers to himself.
"Joseph, we have to get you to a doctor."
"Who's Joseph?" the dead man asked. "Joseph…"
He repeated his words in a strange manner. "What's happened to my voice?"
"You're Joseph! Don't you remember?!" the same man yelled at him. "Joseph, don't you see where you are? This is your funeral! You were pronounced dead four days ago!"
"That's impossible," Joseph spoke, still disorientated and confused as he stammered and staggered like a drunk man's final moments before he passed out.
"Joseph, it's me, David," David spoke. "Let me check your pulse. Let me help you!"
"I don't need help," Joseph spoke.
He did not feel the cold wind which was blowing into his face.
"I need to get back."
A few had already grabbed their mobile phones and called either an ambulance, the police or the tabloids.
The old woman was crying and freaked out as Joseph seemed to approach her, but he only passed her by and only glanced at her once, not realising he was looking at his own mother.
"Joseph!" David yelled. "Where are you going? Joseph! You can't leave! Joseph! You need to go to a hospital! You can't just leave like this! JOSEPH!"
But he didn't listen.
He ventured into the wind's direction.
Grey clouds were forming in the distance into which Joseph was heading.
And no-one dared to stop the dead man as he left his own funeral.