A woman walked through the desolate park being guided by a light posts on her way home. It has been getting colder lately as the current year started dwindling downwards for a new year. The wind blows fearlessly through the trees trying to snap their branches.
The woman's long black hair flowed wildly slapping her face repeatedly without mercy. Starting to feel annoyed, taking the scrunchie off her wrist, and tied the now unruly locks into a secure bun.
"That should do it, hmm the wind is blowing quite fiercely tonight. At this rate, even a flimsy piece of paper will cut someone." Her honey-like voice spoke out a possible notion.
She felt a burning pain at the back of her ankles, wearing heels wasn't the plan. Sadly forgetting her sneakers while rushing out the door this morning.
Darcy's phone chimed, startling her. Pulling it out, she saw her manager's name flash on the screen. A flicker of despair showed in her eyes - perhaps not another late work meeting? But as she answered, a loud CRACK sliced through the wind.
A loose metal sign, ripped from its hinges, hurtled towards her. The rest of the conversation was lost in the shriek of wind and the sickening thud of metal meeting flesh.
She blinked, disoriented, her vision fuzzy at the edges. Darcy pushed herself upright, gasping for breath, the phone no longer clutched in her hand.
It took a moment for her surroundings to come into focus. A few feet away, sprawled on the gravel path, lay a grotesquely familiar figure – her own lifeless body. Blood pooled around the head, a gruesome tableau that would have once sent anyone screaming. Now, it was just another scene in a horrifying play she was forced to repeat.
'I died and came back again... Fuck me...'
A hollow laugh escaped her lips, a humorless sound that echoed in the stillness of the park. This wasn't terror, not anymore. This was a dull ache, a weary acceptance of the endless cycle.
But before she could fully surrender to despair, she remembered where her phone must have fell to. Taking a shaky breath, she forced herself to stand, pulling off the waterproof backpack off her dead body. Dumping it to the side before it got to drench in more red fluid.
'I did accept the call, what lie should I use this time?'
Finding the phone, still clench in her severed hand.
"Darcy? Hello Darcy? Did something happen? Hello!?" concern lacing the manager's tone through the phone. A rustling can be heard and eventually a familiar honey-like voice.
"I'm sorry, Chloe! I thought I saw a skunk run past me when it was only a couple of squirrels. It shocked me into flinging my phone after answering your call" Darcy explained. She can hear the manager sign in relief.
"At least nothing bad happened, honestly what a fright!" her manager, Chloe composed herself before continuing "I called because I found someone's keys on the floor as I was leaving the office. It has a keychain of an animated girl in a maid outfit with light blue hair?" Telling Darcy the reason for this after-work phone call.
She smiled, it wasn't an emergency meeting at all but a coworker lost property. "That would be Philip's keys then, he lives almost an hour away by transport. I can text you his address, he might still be on the train and haven't noticed yet."
"Hmm, that would be good. Then I will drive over there. I'm glad I didn't imagine the worst happening. Get home safely Darcy." The sound of a click could be heard, letting Darcy know Chloe hung up already.
Placing her phone back in her coat pocket. She glanced down behind herself, at her own body, a nearly decapitated body with blood pooling out. The wind no longer blows fiercely, now it is a gentle chilling breeze.
"Great way to start the weekend off, ain't that right my dead body."
There wasn't a hint of terror on her face at the gruesome sight. Darcy had no issues speaking calmly as if this moment were a daily routine. A car alarm echoed in the distance, a perfectly normal sound in this bizarre world.
Darcy knelt beside the body, her movements practiced but devoid of emotion. A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips, not reaching her eyes. With a practiced efficiency that belied the horror of the situation, she grasped the hand, the long-faded stains invisible in the moonlight.
Pulling the body away from the path, leaving a trail of blood into the dense treeline.
She emerged moments later in a secluded clearing. "This looks like a good spot," she muttered, the ground soft for digging. "Pretty sure I left a shovel around here..."
Her search was brief. Behind a thick oak, she retrieved the familiar tool, a weary smile tugging at her lips.
She began the grim task. The rhythmic scrape of the shovel against the earth mingled with the upbeat tempo of her playlist blasting though the earphones. It wasn't long before a shallow grave lay open.
With a practiced efficiency born of repetition, Darcy maneuvered her former body into the hole. A white handkerchief, a small act of futile tenderness, covered the exposed face.
Pausing for a moment, she murmured, "I know it's pointless. You'll be gone in about two to four hours. But you're still a part of me, and you deserve a semblance of peace."
'I wish I could just die and not come back like a game character.' Shoveling in the dirt, giving her former self a proper burial as she taps the ground to flatten it.
Returning the shovel behind the thick oak, stepping over to her coat and backpack, taking out a marker.
She looked for a flat smooth piece of rock. It was to become a sort of gravestone, while others wouldn't know what it means to her it is a reminder. A part of her was here in this world like the ones before and those afterward.
Scribbling on the rock as she places it on the grave.
"At least you are not buried here alone, goodnight #293" In this secluded clearing there were more rocks with writing on them. More faded than others, #267, #274, #279, #288 including few more in-between.
This area is one of many spots, Darcy uses whenever she dies, believing she was cursed to suffer endless deaths. Being made to live again, see her corpse, bury them, and die again to repeat a cycle.
Collecting her items, used wet wipes stored in her bag to clean both her face and hands so her neighbors don't call the police.
Taking one last glance at her small cemetery, she left the clearing past the dense treeline and stopped on the gravel path. Blood that had covered the ground now was gone along with the metal sign that killed her.