The rain tapped against the passenger window as I stared up into the darkened sky. It had been two days since my best friend Magdalen and I had driven headfirst into a concrete wall due to hydroplaning. She was dead on site and I had survived with only a couple of scratches. It had been a regular day starting with work and then lunch. I never expected that day would be the last lunch I would ever share with her. I still remember the smell of the coffee I had ordered and how she laughed when she said, “Caffeine and you is never a good idea.”
I never once took my eyes away from the passing trees as we reached the cemetery. My boyfriend Rider and I decided that it was only right that I at least went to her grave after the funeral. I had been asked by her parents not to go to the funeral because some people saw it as my fault and they did not want any type of uproar. It had been hard to do, but I understood why. The
ir family was a very vengeful one. The cemetery was quiet as I stepped out of the car and made my way to the freshly padded down pile of dirt. I could not cry. I wanted to, but I had been drained of all types of emotion. Her grave stood alone from everyone else’s that night. Maybe it was because I knew her and I did not know the others. Actually, it was probably because she had been the only person buried that day.
I kneeled over grave and placed my hand on the settling soil. It was cool to the touch, yet there was something there. I looked back at Rider who was looking down at the ground and then his eyes shooting off beyond where I stood and into the distance. He was trying hard to give me the time he believed was my right to have. I wanted to say something to him, but standing there in his leather jacket, blue jeans, and black boots with that saddened, lost look, I could not bring myself to tell him I was fine.
Then I felt a tug. Not a physical tug, but an emotional tug coming from the grave. I went back to concentrating on that feeling that something was different. I had been to cemeteries before, but I felt some type of pull that was deeper than skin. The wind started blowing along the skin of my bare hands as my head started pounding with the worst migraine I had ever felt. Rider ran to me, trying to pull me away from the grave, but I stayed there on my knees as my migraine built, as blood started dripping from my nose. I screamed as the feeling of overwhelming power took over my body and shot into the Earth.
I fell back into Rider’s hands, completely exhausted when I heard it: the scratching of nails against wood. I looked up into Rider’s green eyes and saw the fear in his face that I knew he also saw on mine. We started digging with our hands as fast as we could, clawing away at the dirt. I heard screaming, panic stricken. I dug faster until I reach the top of the mahogany coffin. I screamed back at her, telling her it was me and that it was all going to be fine. Rider finally uncovered as much as he could and opened the lid.
There she lay, hair drenched with sweat, eyes frantic and scared. We pulled her out, her falling on top of me crying. I had no way to explain what had happened and, truly, a part of me did not car. Magadlen was back and it was the happiest and the most confused I had ever been.
The next morning, having fallen asleep in the back of Rider’s car, we drove over to the only person Rider could think would answer questions about what had happened. Phoebe was not Wiccan but a witch and she had understood. She told us that because of my near death experience I had probably died for a short amount of time and no one had told me, and that it had effected me supernaturally. It was confusing but it was the only thing that could have happened and made sense.
I brought my best friend back to life. A week later a car hit a little girl’s dog and after I touched it, he was fine. Phoebe said that I need to be able to control my power because it was meant for good but there’s no telling what would happen if the wrong person found out of if one day I brought a whole cemetery back to life. I told her the only thing that I could think of at the time: I guess I’ll just take it one day at a time.
