The spell has to start at sunset. It has to be done on a waning moon, and it must be done within a year of the felling. Other than that it's a simple procedure, really. Scatter salt over a grave, poor moon-water on the tomb stone, set a stone (of any kind so long as its magic) on the dirt and say something along the lines of "get up you dumbass" or "wake up stupid" or you know, "step forth from your grave and, live once more!"
I'll admit, I did use the last one the first few times. Its what my mother's old Book of Shadows said to say but its just… I was fifteen, and awkward. Look, I know it was cringy, okay?
Anyway, once you've done the things and said your words all you can do is wait. It takes until midnight before anything actually happens so its best to just bring something to pass the time. I've got some of Granny Mariah's donuts and my laptop. I've been binging Bluey lately. I like how sweet it is. Very relatable.
Once midnight rolls around, I shut the laptop and set aside my empty donut box because this is when the good part begins. It always starts with a muffled thump. The kind you couldn't hear unless you were really listening, since, of course, six feet of soil is quite the barrier. Then it turns to screams and please for help. That usually goes on a while, and I usually love every second of it, but tonight I'm not expecting that step at all. Just banging and then the lengthy shifting of soil as the once-corpse digs its way from the grave.
Lengthy is an understatement. Its nearly dawn when a hand finally manages to claw its way from the dirt. A little longer than I'd anticipated, but I've had subjects take up to two days in the past, so really, it's completely within the norm. Just, not for this *particular* corpse. For this one, its a personal worst.
The rest of the body comes not long after. Filthy, weak and pale, but not at all decayed. That's part of why the spell takes so long to take effect. I could perform it any time after sundown and it would work, but if I don't give enough time for the flesh to regenerate... well, let's just say the fear of zombies isn't completely unwarranted.
It climbs shakily to its feet, wobbling dangerously towards the hole it's left in the ground. I grin at that. It wouldn't be the first time someone's fallen back in and I've gotten an encore. But it doesn't fall. Instead, it doubles over and vomits.
It doesn't happen every time, but when it doesn't, it's really more a testament to the gravedigger not doing their job properly than the skill of a corpse digging it's way out. Six feet is a lot of dirt and worms and bugs and whatever else for them to swallow on the way up.
Finally, the corpse straightens itself up again and wipes its mouth as though it isn't already filthy. "It's warm. What the fuck took you so long? I died in December!"
I shrug. "I was busy. You ready to go?"
It huffs. Shifts. Settles. And then I'm not looking at a corpse I've just pulled from the grave, but my best friend. A woman who, for all her many gifts, does not know how the fuck to stay alive like she's supposed to. "Well I sure as hell 'm not staying here covered in dirt and my own vomit!" She hisses, without any bite. "You save me any of granny's?"
"No, but we can pick some up once you've showered. Should be open by then." I promise.
She huffs again and starts for the parking lot. I know better than to even try catching her up or letting her in on the real reason I waited this long to wake her up. She hates being bombarded with information fresh out the grave. And I, unlike her, know how to keep my head on my shoulders.