Bear with me

When my father died, I buried him along with the lucky necklace he gave me before he breathed his last. It was a piece of jewelry that was passed down from generation to generation in our family, from father to son and so on. But for me it was just an old piece, maybe made of gold, maybe not, in any case I couldn't wear something like that, even though it was very precious to my father and also to my grandfather. So at the cemetery I insisted that the only inheritance I received from my father must be placed in his coffin. He can keep it, if you know what I mean.

But a few months later after his tragic death, I realized that nothing in my life was working anymore. It was as if I had lost my luck. A fortune teller explained to me this is happening because I lost the necklace. I didn't lose it, I gave it away, sort of speak. So, what can I do now?, I asked myself, with a rhetorical tone. I can't dig up my fathers grave to find it again! Or can I?

One night I took a shovel, a mask and a pair of gloves and went to the cemetery. It was like trying to rob a bank, only worse. I waited for the last widow to leave her beloved grave, and after that, when I was all alone, just me and the restless spirits, I started digging in the moonlight. When I reached 10 feet underground, I still hadn't found the coffin. What the heck! It couldn't be buried that deep!

When I looked at the gravestone again, I realized that I had dug in the wrong place. It was the same name, but this man was buried several centuries ago. Maybe that's why I couldn't find his coffin, it had been melted down over time. Three hours of hard work for nothing! I told you I had no luck lately!

Being too tired to dig another hole in the right spot, I told myself that maybe I should take a selfie to remember that night and laugh later. I sat down at the bottom of the grave, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and tried to take a picture of me and the hole. I pressed the button. After I took the picture, I checked it to see if it was OK or if I should take a new one. And when I did, I saw something that made me cry out. It wasn't a ghost. If it had been a ghost, I would have been the happiest person on earth at that moment. But no. It was something much more menacing. Much creepier. I was wearing the necklace. That necklace! My father's necklace. But how was that possible? I was digging in the wrong place, and I didn't open any coffin because there wasn't one, so how did this unique piece of jewelry get on my neck?! That's impossible! I was pretty sure I put it to my dad's neck when I buried him 3 months ago. But now I can see it very clearly in the selfie. In the next moment I touched it with my finger. I felt the metal. It is real and it is there! That ancient amulet is sitting around my neck, as my father wished for, but I refused it. It was like I was my dead father trying to get out of his grave!

I was very scared. I tried to run. But I found that the hole was too deep and I couldn't get out. I tried to jump, to climb up the earth walls, but it was in vain. I was stuck there forever. Should I call 911? No way! They'd put me in jail for grave desecration. So, no police! But what should I do? I need a staircase or a pair of wings. If I were to die, maybe I would ascend like an angel. I realized that I had dug my own grave. I was in despair. No one to help me. Just me and a shovel. Maybe I can use the shovel as a stair. I must be a monkey to climb a stick. It's worth a try! But after several unsuccessful attempts, I was covered in dirt from head to toe. The floor was damp, so I was covered all over with black mud. I didn't exactly look like an angel now, but more like a devil.

At that moment, a widow who had forgotten her purse on a bench and was returning to get it heard my cry and cautiously approached the grave where I was lying. She saw a black silhouette at the bottom of the freshly dug hole. In a whispered voice, she began to pray the Hail Mary. Woman, I don't need any prayer, I need a ladder! But I couldn't say anything to her because I was too afraid that if I said even a little word to her, she'd run away. Or she might have a heart attack because me and we will be a duo in the grave. Either way, I went mute with panic, my voice strangled by that damn necklace. It was like a curse. What was I supposed to do? I don't know sign language.

Although it was a very bad idea, I started to undress. Not because it was too hot, but to show her that under the black clothes there was a human being and not Satan. When she saw that I was taking off my clothes, she started to do the same. I was dumbfounded. What is she doing? Is she trying to show me that under her black clothes (because she was wearing mourning dress) there really is Satan, or what?! Woman, take a closer look: I'm not your dead husband resurrected and rising from the grave! Not at all! So, be merciful, don't have dirty thoughts, I'm the wrong person, put your clothes back on! You're messing everything up. Please, be reasonable! I know you have needs, maybe you still feel young, but I need more help than you, in a different sector! I was about to say a Hail Mary myself. But, in spite of my last minute religiosity, she still didn't stop, she kept going, all the way. Oh, my God, you're perpetuate my bad luck and laughing at me again! An old naked woman near a man forced to take the deal and sell his soul to the devil!

But she hadn't thought about sex at all. I had jumped to conclusions. She started tying her coat, skirt and blouse together to make something like a bed sheet ladder, and then she threw it into my hole to help me get out. But the rope wasn't long enough. So she think a moment, and after that she made a hard decision. She took off her bra too to make it even longer. Pueh, I'd rather die here, in the middle of the cemetery, than see her wrinkled breasts! But freedom has its price, and so I endured the disgusting sight. He tied a knot around the tombstone that was above my head, and after that she encouraged me to climb up. After I did so and got out, she hugged me. I didn't push her away because she deserved a sign of gratitude from my side, even if it was an unwilling one.

Because I hugged her, I didn't pay attention to her face. It was dark anyway. But after a while I heard her voice: "Oh, my son, you're wearing your father's necklace! That means my dearest Sam is dead!" Sam is indeed my father's name. I mean, it was. And my mother died before him.