The body stirs. His knife stops slicing. The V is not finished. It’s dead but it’s lips move. It sits up. Skin falls in a half flap from it’s rib cage. “Give me your heart, and your soul will be spared,” the corpse states.
“There is no heaven. So souls do not exist.” The mortician steps away. The blade drips blood.
A snake slithers from corpse’s mouth and drops an apple at the mortician’s feet.
“Believe, and die,” the snake says.