1
Never again will I use the phrase Nightmare Fuel to describe something unpleasant, like a roach infestation or a fried centipede on a stick. No, those don’t count anymore, because they’ve been replaced by the much more substantial “waking up in what is clearly an actual coffin to the distant sounds of digging” nightmare fuel.
Pretty sure I screamed. A lot.
The digging paused, then started again, with more enthusiasm, and a dim orange glow filled the space.
“Hey Buddy?” A muffled echoing voice said. “You doing OK in there? We’re going as fast as we can out here, but it seems like you’re in pretty deep.”
“I’m in a fucking coffin! How do you think I’m doing!? Get me out of here!!” I paused. “Please? Please get me out of here?”
“That’s the plan, but it’s pretty mad out here, so we’re short on people. Going as fast as we can.”
A different voice cut in, slow and deep, and the light changed, inexplicably, to grey.
“Please rest assured that you are in no danger in your current situation. Can you please describe your surroundings?”
“A coffin! I’m in a coffin! I’m running out of air in a coffin!”
“What do the sides look like?” The slow deep voice enquired. “Straight sides, or does it taper?”
“Straight sides.” A thought struck me. “Where’s the light coming from? And how could I see before?”
“Oh, that’s really more of a casket; Straight sides, and probably hinges? Classic casket design.”
“Oh, is that the distinction?” Replied the first voice as a hint of orange light leaked back in. “I always thought they were interchangeable.”
“What can you smell?” Asked the grey voice. “Is it damp or dry?”
I sniffed the air.
“Dry. Maybe a bit like a campfire?”
“That tells us where to look; Thanks pal.” Said the orange light voice. “And you’re not running out of air, for reasons I’d rather not explain just now because … Well, just take my word for it, OK?”
Very faintly, I heard yelling from outside. Something about a bonfire.
“Is there anything you can explain?” I asked. “It sounds like you’re digging me out, and I’m grateful for that, but I’m not sure how I got here.”
“Can you tell me please,” Asked deep & slow & grey. “What the last thing you remember is? Not that it’s immediately relevant, but it’ll help fill the time while we find you.”
“I was at an office party, and there was a really loud noise and a bright light.”
“Good party?” Enquired orange light voice. “I’ve never been to an office party, but parties are usually fun.”
I had to think about that one.
“I think other people were probably having more fun than I was.” I concluded. “I made a tactical error and got sat next to an IT Morlock who doesn’t really understand how conversations work and is really interested in cars.”
Both voices spoke simultaneously.
“I thought this was an all-human deal?”
“How many different species were present? And what’s a Morlock? Or an Eye Tee?”
Species? What?
“Uhhh,” I tried to find the right words. “Not an actual Morlock. Morlocks aren’t real. Just … someone who doesn’t see daylight very often and has poor social skills.”
“That makes more sense.” Deep slow & grey replied. “I wondered if we’d been given the wrong information for a moment there.”
The digging was definitely getting closer.
“You mentioned a light; Do you remember the direction it came from?”
“Must have been from outside.” I said. “IT guy and I were right beside the window, and I remember we were both turning away from everyone else to look towards it.”
A scrape on the lid.
“You in there; Just hang on, OK?” Asked orange light voice. “We’ll get you out of the hole, then out of the box. Trust me, you don’t want to try climbing out of a grave as your first task of the night; It’s really tricky.”
“And to be honest,” Intoned slow & deep & grey. “It’s not an ideal introduction to a new place. Few places are at their best when viewed from eight feet down.”
2
The coffin, or possibly casket, rocked a bit as something rasped against it.
“We’re just getting some ropes around you, OK?” Said the orange glow voice. “Then we can lift you up and out, and get you out of that thing.’
“Take your time; I’m not going anywhere right now?” I offered, weakly. “OK, that was bad. Not funny at all.”
“No.” Said deep & slow & grey. “But it’s nice that you tried. And you’d be surprised how far even a bad joke will go in a tense situation.”
“Speaking of … ” Orange voice started, but was cut off by a yelling rasping voice.
“Head! Crow! Headcrow!! We found another primary!!”
There was a long pause as heavy footsteps approached.
“Uhhhh, hello?” I called. “Everything OK out there?”
“There should only be one primary.” Said orange glow. “That’s what the word means. How can there be two?”
“Not a clue, Headcrow, but they’re somewhere in the vaults. We’re going door to door now, because we can’t get a decent location; Something’s throwing it off.”
“Probably the whole rest of the boneyard.” Orange voice grumbled. “There are arrivals everywhere tonight. And why Headcrow?”
“That the other primary?” Asked rasping voice. “Hey, you in there! How many people were you with before you were in the box?”
“They were at an office party.” Said deep & slow & grey. “So probably a lot, but that shouldn’t cause …”
It trailed off.
“How close were you to the Eye Tee Morlock you mentioned?”
“What’s a Morlock?” Whispered raspy voice. “I thought this was a humans only thing?”
“Across the table from him.” I replied. “It was a pretty cramped restaurant, so I could have picked up his plate without stretching.”
All three voices spoke as one.
“Bollocks.”
The box started to lurch upwards, and orange glow voice tried to be reassuring.
“Look, normally we’d have a whole welcoming thing for you, and show you around, but it’s a madhouse up here, and not the fun kind, so when we get you out we’re going to need you to go straight to work. There are a bunch of other people in the same situation as you, and we need all the hands we can get.”
There was a meaningful cough, and a pause.
“I was getting to that.”
“Get there faster, Headcrow.” Said raspy. “Clock’s ticking.’
“Here’s the big thing.” Orange glow voice sighed. “When we open this box, things are going to look really weird and probably frightening to you. Normally we’d have set the scene, but we don’t have time, so all I can tell you is that you’re safe. Nothing will hurt you, nobody means you harm, and if we’re reading the situation right, there are a bunch of people who need the help only you can offer, OK?”
The box lurched & dropped onto something solid. The foot end tilted up, and raspy voice asked. “Head or feet?”
“Feet! That’s the foot end you’re lifting!”
The box dropped, and the other end lifted, slowly bringing me upright.
“That’s why I wish they’d use coffins.” Muttered raspy. “No confusion with a coffin.”
“Did everyone but me know this!?” Demanded orange glow voice.
There was some scraping at the lid, then silence.
“The next part is up to you.” Said deep & slow & grey. “We’ve unscrewed the lid, so, …, in your own time, open it and step out.”
I’d intended a calm measured opening of the box, but the urge to not be in there anymore turned that into a brute-force shove which hurled the lid open & broke one of the hinges, so that it sagged and hit me in the shin.
I didn’t really notice the impact; I was too busy staring in disbelief at the cloaked skeleton, glowing-eyed pumpkin-headed scarecrow, and actual werewolf standing in front of me.
3
The werewolf tried what was probably a grin, but there were a lot of teeth involved, so it wasn’t particularly reassuring. Scarecrow waved. Skeleton gave a slight bow.
The edges of my vision started turning black, and I tried not to scream again, clenching my teeth together, and kept it to a low squeeking noise that I thought maybe they wouldn’t notice.
Werewolf noticed, and nudged the scarecrow.
“Say. Something.” He growled through gritted teeth. “Or I’m going to have to chase this one when he runs, and that’ll put us even further behind; So. Say. Something.”
The scarecrow stepped forward on impossibly thin legs, raising hands with too many fingers in a gesture that was most likely intended to be reassuring.
“You’re in no danger here.” He started. “I know you’re scared and confused, but despite how things probably look, you’re safe here in the boneyard.”
He gestured out.
“It’s total chaos at the moment, I grant you, but I’m hoping that you can help us with that. Take a look around.”
I took a hesitant step out of the casket or coffin, then turned to follow where he was pointing, but the blackness expanded. Suddenly the scarecrow was right behind me, grabbing my arms as I fell.
“Woah! OK, I’ve got you. Just shut your eyes for a bit, maybe?” The scarecrow suggested as he started to gently steer me away from the casket. “We’ll try this in stages, OK?”
I let myself be steered & sat on what felt like a log, with something warm & crackling & smokey somewhere in front of me.
“Try opening your eyes again.” Said deep & slow & grey, presumably the skeleton. “Just … Describe what you’re seeing. It’ll help.”
I hesitantly opened my eyes.
“There’s a campfire, with logs around it, like a campsite from a movie.” I started. “I’m sitting on one log, there’s a skeleton in a grey robe on one of the other logs, and a werewolf on the other wearing … Are those Hawaiian print cargo shorts?”
The werewolf nodded and grinned, then gestured at me to continue.
“There’s a scarecrow sitting beside me with a Jack-o’-lantern for a head with what looks like actual flames in it, whose legs are so long that his knees are above his head, and …” I shot a look at the skeleton. “Are you toasting a fucking marshmallow?!”
“Oooo, good idea!” Exclaimed the werewolf, rummaging elbow-deep in a pocket. “I’ve got some chocolate and crackers here somewhere.”
4
“Keep it up.” Mumbled the skeleton through a mouthful of S’more. “You’re doing well. What’s around you?”
“The campfire is under a tree and surrounded by,” I looked around. “A graveyard? Kind of overgrown, and the gravestones are all at different angles. And there’s an open grave behind me.”
“What about over there?” Asked the werewolf, pointing past the tree.
“Much more manicured graveyard, with the stones in neat rows, and a bunch of little buildings scattered around. They’re all white, and there’s a bunch of … People, I guess? … Looking around in the wrong places and banging on the doors.”
“What about behind you?” Asked the scarecrow, gently turning me to look over the open grave while the werewolf made a strangled coughing noise. “What can you see there?”
“More graveyard, an iron fence that’s leaning and overgrown, then … Some kind a hedge maze that people are going through with burning torches, and a big creepy-ass house with some ghosts having a picnic on the lawn.”
“Where should the folks in the graveyard behind you be looking?” Asked the werewolf. “You’re doing great here.”
“They want one of those places where there’s lots of vaults off a hall; Like a capsule hotel for dead people.”
There was a sudden scrabbling noise, and I turned to see the werewolf running off towards the better-kept part of the graveyard, hurdling rows and waving his arms.
“Wrong vaults! Follow me!!”
My brain slowly caught up.
“How did I know that?”
“No idea.” The skeleton shrugged. “But in these multiple arrival situations there’s usually a primary, and they point us at the rest, like you just did.”
“Though in this particular case,” Continued the scarecrow, moving to the log recently vacated by the werewolf. “It’s probably complicated by there being two primaries, one with the knowledge and one with … Something else.”
I tried raising an eyebrow.
“Headcrow isn’t being intentionally vague.” Said the skeleton over the top of an outraged squeak from the scarecrow. “We don’t really know what to expect in these situations, but its sometimes a thing they can do, sometimes a thing they know, and sometimes a thing they carry. But there’s always something.”
“Can we review this ‘Headcrow’ thing?” Asked the scarecrow.
“No, it’s official; You’re Headcrow now. Jeff decided.”
“Jeff only called me that because he’s terrible with names; It doesn’t count, and I feel like giving a name suggesting leadership of crows to someone who is a Literal. Fucking. Scarecrow sends the wrong message. Or is offensive. Or something.”
The skeleton pointed at their own head, then made a surprisingly realistic crowd shadow puppet in the firelight, then grinned somehow.
“I just don’t think that Jeff should get to name things.” Grumbled Headcrow.