Nausea

It started with sudden nausea. Rosaura raised her hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom, but her teacher didn’t notice. He was trying to overcome his own discomfort to continue the class. Everyone at school was telling themselves that it would soon pass, and they were right.
It was over in less than a minute, before old mistress Chanita was able to decide which of her neighbors had put a curse on her to make her sick, before the mayor could blame her wife’s cooking and the village’s doctor could hear about any of the cases. The drunk man at the end of the street didn’t even notice his own nausea before it was all over.
And then… Then it started: the horror movie came true, the nightmare, the unbelievable.
But nobody was refusing to trust their eyes, no one was horrified.
Not a living person in the village had to hear the groans or felt the rumbling under the cemetery. THey didn’t watch in fear as the corpses clawed their way into the surface. They didn’t have to smell the dead, because they had already tasted their own deaths.
The things that came from the cemetery, not ghosts but not exactly zombies, took the skin of the recently deceased, and their homes, and their jobs. They shared when they had too; it wasn’t so hard since their descendants were taller and wider. Besides, the recently deceased were all soul and bones.
They cleaned their own disaster and put their old corpses in the capable hands of five generations of gravediggers just coming out of retirement.
Everything was back to normal soon enough.