When I first heard the rumbling sound, I assumed it was an approaching train getting ready to pull into the subway station. When the tunnel collapsed and buried us under the rubble, all sound drifted away, leaving nothing but an endless stream of quiet dark.

I came to in a hospital bed surrounded by nurses and doctors, all of whom looked like they were witnessing the second coming. It turns out they were, as I was soon informed that I had been dead for three minutes and thirteen seconds.

I found it hard to believe them, but the clock on the wall tells no lies. As the medical staff fussed over me, I watched the second hands tick by until they eventually landed on 3:13 AM. At that point, it was as though all the air was sucked out of the room.

I turned my head, focusing on the camera sitting on my bedside table. I could see one of the nurses through the digital display, and could also see the man beside her, knife raised. I wanted to scream a warning, but when I looked at her outside of the screen, there was no man.

As she leaned over to prop up my pillow, I described the man I had seen, bringing a frown to her face. She told me is sounded like her boyfriend, although not for much longer, as his anger issues were becoming problematic.

I’m not sure if this is some kind of brain trauma or something…other. I’ll be keeping an eye on the nurse because I think the other feels more likely. Don’t ask me why, but I am as sure of it as I am sure of my own name…Daniel Graves.

Watson’s House of Horrors

Comic Book Saturday: Graveshift Issue #1