They stood within the graveyard,
as rain beat down upon their
covered heads. Necromancers,
whom the dead obeyed.

The headstone stood in
that quagmire of mud.
Quiet and silent as the
words of resurrection were pronounced.

They watched as the clods of
earth moved and sifted. As
hands struggled free of
the wet grave.

They stood as the corpse stood,
waiting for the inevitable torrent
of questions.
They came in time.

The glistening corpse listened intently,
then spat the answers in time
with their trembling hearts.

The necromancers were satisfied now.
They uttered words, expecting the
guest to return.
This he did not do.

He stood resolute and solemn,
ignoring their desperate words.
Ignoring their pleas.
He stood resolute.

Waiting for help.
The yard erupted then.
Spewing out the grisly dead.
The necromancers tried to run.

Caught by garish fingers which
ripped them open like tin cans.
Teeth that tore and chewed their
bloody entrails.

Only bone remained now.
Bone glistening in the rain
as the dead returned to
rest once more.

When dawn broke, the legend
upon the stone could be seen.
Ignored perhaps by the victims.
Do not disturb.