The Rock Ring
The Rock Ring
The boys’ Great Uncle was a bit of a strange man. He had been a shaman wizard. His Great Uncle did things that both frightened and amazed the young lad. But now the boy had grown up, and alone in the private secluded family cemetery, staring down at his Great Uncles grave, the boy was a man, and not so frightened. He was a man that was now greedy and full of hope and expectations. It was Spring, and the winds blew warm in the gentle sunshine of a fine clear day. Having put his childish fears away, the man chose the spot, and hit the old marble tombstone with a metal hammer breaking off a sizeable chip of stone. He held it in his hand and examined it. The rock glimmered warmly in the sunshine. He closed his hand around it and gave it a victorious squeeze, before slipping it into his pocket. A little necromancy like this never hurt anyone.
He took the rock to the shop of a fine old jeweler, and left it to be fashioned and polished into a round stone ring that would fit his ring finger. Three days later he arrived to get the ring and pay for it. The old jeweler seemed a bit more cautious and stared a bit at the man. That was a good sign, if the jeweler looked a little spooked now. The man smiled, smug in his secret knowledge, and silently congratulated himself. Everything was working according to plan. A little necromancy like this never hurt anyone.
The surge of power that he felt when he put the ring on was quite pleasant and gave him more confidence. Now he knew the power that Great Uncle knew. It surged through him like adrenaline, and he felt bigger, and more aware. He knew now that the jeweler was going to blow the money he had just paid him on lotto tickets. He also knew that the jeweler would not win anything, and a sarcastic grin crept across his face, which puzzled the jeweler. “Do not worry,” he told the jeweler in a patronizing tone, “the ring is perfect.”
Six months later, and long forgotten on Halloween, under the moonlight, up on the hill where the woods began, in the private family cemetery, something began to disturb the sod. Something was stirring the dirt, and pushing up the grass of Great Uncle’s grave. What was this? Unknown to anyone, a tattered stinking cadaver was fitfully emerging, crawling out, clawing it’s way to the surface. The spirits that had been left behind, wanted to rejoin their captain. Where was the ring?
A hush began to fall over the woods when Great Uncle’s cadaver, which had been laying prone and soaking up the moonlight, struggled to it’s feet. It was a clumsy effort, but the spirits worked together to animate the long dead body. Haltingly the zombie corpse began a determined shuffle toward the lights of the farm house down below, to rejoin the spirit of the rock ring.
Happy Halloween!
(C)
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