It's already 12:30 a.m., thirty minutes past midnight and I still can't locate the fucking grave.
Just how deep did these assholes bury her? Were they trying to hide a body or dig to the Earth's core?
I know, I know. You're probably wondering what the hell a woman in her late twenties is doing in a cemetery, covered in dirt, and digging up graves like it's a normal Friday night.
And no, I'm not a gravedigger.
A dare? Pfft. I wish. I would've taken the punishment. Or the humiliation. Or being called a fucking chicken. Anything but this.
Clack.
What the—?
I freeze. Then slowly lower myself down and brush away the last layer of dirt.
Yes. Finally. The damn coffin.
Okay. Okay. First things first.
Protective charm?
Check. Necklace is secure.
Don't engage with her.
Don't remove the stake until she's locked in the cage.
Got it.
So… how the fuck am I supposed to carry a dead body all the way to my house?
And not just any dead body—a vampire's dead body.
Yeah. I didn't think that far ahead.
Fuck, I'm so fucking stupid.
Wait—wait. My bag. The spell book. I brought it, right?
Please tell me I brought it.
If it's in there, I can teleport us back. Just one simple spell. No big deal.
Unless I screw it up. Like I always do.
Oh—did I mention I'm a witch?
A vengeful one.
And yeah… I'm terrible at spells.
Great. Now I have to climb out and get the fucking bag.
Trouble is—I didn't realize I'd dug myself into a stupidly deep hole without figuring out how the hell I was supposed to get out. Genius, right?
I can really be an idiot sometimes.
"Aargh," I grunt, trying to jump.
Nope. Too short. Not even close.
Guess a witch's gotta do what a witch's gotta do.
"Leviatous."
Nothing.
Okay. Pretty sure I said it right.
"Leviatous!"
Still nothing.
Now do you see why I said I suck at spells?
Okay, let's try something different.
"Coffin Leviatous."
Silence. I'm about to curse the moon into dust when—
Rumble.
The coffin shudders.
Then jerks.
Then slowly—miraculously—lifts into the air.
"Oh shit—yes!" I yell, scrambling on top before it rises too high.
So yeah, now I'm flying mid-air on a hovering vampire coffin like some kind of deranged witch-surfboarder.
One problem: I, uh... forgot the spell to lower it.
Awesome.
Fucking awesome.
"Stupid fucking coffin—GO DOWN!" I yell, throwing all my frustration at it.
To my shock... it actually listens.
The coffin dips mid-air, creaks ominously, and starts sinking back down.
Wait—did I just… will it to obey?
I think I just did will magic.
I remember that old hag Martha mumbling something about it once. Said advanced witches don't need spells—they just will stuff to happen. At the time I was too busy trying to charm my tea to stir itself, but hey—maybe I'm finally getting the hang of this whole witch thing.
Trouble is… the coffin is going back into the grave.
Back to the exact spot I just dug it out of.
"Wait—no, no, NOPE!" I yell, and leap off mid-descent.
I hit the ground with a graceless thud just as the coffin slams back into its dusty pit with a dramatic THUNK.
"Okay," I pant, brushing dirt off my ass. "Let's just hope her soul—or wherever the hell vampire souls go—isn't pissed at me."
Wait. Do vampires even have souls? Didn't they, like, sell them to the devil for immortality and fangs?
Focus, dumbass. This isn't the time for a metaphysical crisis.
I need to get this stupid coffin to my house before other witches start flying around.
Yes, we actually do have brooms. Yes, we fly. And no, we don't like taking the human transportation system unless we want to be stuck behind a minivan full of screaming toddlers and cursed air fresheners.
The witching hour is dangerously close, and I'm nowhere near home.
I grab my bag, double-check that I've got everything—spell book, binding salts, emergency chocolate—then sweep the area clean. No footprints. No cursed buttons. No leftover stupidity.
Once everything's packed, I hop back into the grave, crouched beside the damn coffin like this is totally normal behavior.
Okay. Time for the teleportation spell.
No pressure. Just me, a vampire corpse, and a high chance of ending up in a garbage dump.
Absolutely! Here's a cleaned-up and vivid continuation of your teleportation scene—preserving your main character's spiraling chaos, exhaustion, and that snarky internal voice we love:
I pull out my tiny spell book—the one I "conveniently" shrank with a charm to make it easier to carry around and sneak into places. Great idea at the time. Less great now that it's the size of a damn teabag and nearly impossible to read in the dark.
"Fuck," I mutter, squinting like a half-blind raccoon.
I flip through the pages, fingers covered in dirt, eyes straining against cramped ink and smudged sigils. I really need to get my eyes checked.
Wait—am I... old now?
No, shut up. You're twenty-eight, not eighty. Focus.
"Page 132," I whisper. "There it is. Third spell down—Teleportation."
I take a deep breath.
Let's really hope I don't mess this up.
First time I tried it, I ended up on active fucking railway tracks.
Second time? Someone's bed.
Thankfully, no one was home… and I gotta be out before anyone called the cops or the exorcist.
I plant my palm on the coffin, and brace for magical mayhem.
"Transitus Domum Subterranus!" I chant, loud and clear, drawing the sigil with my finger in the air, glowing faint blue.
The runes flicker.
The coffin trembles beneath my hand.
"Oh fuck, it's working—"
POP.
Everything jerks sideways. My stomach flips like it's trying to escape through my spine. There's a loud crack of displaced air, a blinding flash of blue light, and then—
THUD.
Hard. Solid. Not the soft grass of the cemetery. Not the basement.
Definitely not the basement.
I groan, eyes fluttering open. I'm lying on a cold, familiar floor.
The kitchen.
"Are you fucking serious?!"
Third time was the charm—sort of. I made it to my place, but not the basement like I planned.
Nope. I landed face-first in my kitchen, scared the hell out of my cat, and now I had to drag a coffin through the living room like a psychopath.
The coffin's here too, parked like a crime scene centerpiece right in front of the fridge.
Of course.
Because dragging a literal vampire corpse through the kitchen again is exactly how I wanted to spend my night.
I mutter under my breath, "Should've just taken the broom."