Consonants and Vowels...

From under the ground, he clawed his way up. Pushing the dirt, small rocks, and clumps of grass out of his way as he writhed his way from his grave. His gangly, bony fingers with hunks of missing flesh dug at the dirt leaving small track like marks in the mud.

He was angry. Correction. He was mad as hell. That bitch had taken him out when he least expected it. He was sitting there in his recliner chair, beer in one hand and remote control in the other. That cunning woman had snuck up behind him and strangled him with his own belt!!!

That was the last thing he remembered. Until he woke up, groggy and sick in a hole in the ground! Vengeance filled his dead, cold, non-beating heart. He could focus only on finding her and making her pay for what she did to him!

At last, he was free from his earthen prison. He stood tall and eager to take a step. He was clumsy, definitely more clumsy than before his demise. Yet, somehow he felt stronger. He couldn't understand how he could still be amongst the living after what he suffered. Then, it struck him as a blow from a blunt object- He was NOT among the living... But the living dead. He sat down on a pile of dirt and contemplated his situation...

More to come... If you so desire.