The Grave

The more I shifted the more dirt started to fall into my mouth. I had never really been claustrophobic but being trapped in a coffin changes one’s perspective on things. They couldn’t even have the decency to bury me with a lighter. I pushed effortlessly on the walls around me, surprised by their sturdy resistance. True, they had to carry a body but usually that body wasn’t putting up much of a fight once in the ground. The air was getting a bit thinner and the dirt around me felt a bit cooler. I wondered how long I had been trapped down here.

I tried to slow my breathing to do my best to conserve the remaining oxygen and did my best to kick hard against the wooden frame of the casket. Part of me was a little offended that all I got was a wooden coffin but the smarter part of me was grateful knowing this might be a little bit easier to escape. I took another shallow breath and held it while I kicked as hard as I could. It was more difficult than I had anticipated since I didn’t really have enough room to lengthen out my leg and give my full force. There was a crack though, in the wood and more dirt came pouring down onto my legs. I shook it off the best I could. The more dirt that fell the harder it seemed to keep the air in my lungs.

I kept kicking and little cracks kept forming but it never seemed to be enough to break all the way through. It was cold and dark, I couldn’t see anything - not even my hand held up to my face. My hand that I was sure was turning blue.

I stopped kicking for a moment to build my strength back up and did my best to keep calm. Alright, no panicking. I’m going to get out of this, no need to add more stress to the situation.

I tore off the tie that I was wearing and unbuttoned the first few buttons of my shirt. That didn’t, obviously, add any air to the space but it helped me calm down and feel like I could breathe better. I started to mentally gear myself up to start kicking again. It would be easier if I wasn’t wearing my dress shoes - I could feel the impact all through my foot and into my ankle with each kick.

I sucked in a deep breath and kicked again, more cracks, more dirt. I did my best to relax and quiet down the frustration before once again kicking the wood. Finally, it cracked open but before I could feel any excitement or relief the wood plank fell down and stabbed painfully into my leg securing it into position. Great.

I tried to reach as forward as I could in the small space to potentially pull out the plank but with such limited range there was no way I could even touch it. I could only think of one option and I really didn’t want to do it. I could feel the tears of pain and fear dripping out of my eyes. I made no attempt to wipe them away. I started to lift my leg knowing that it would scrape the wood down my leg but hopefully it would release the grip. I could go to the hospital after I got out of here. I pulled my leg up and felt the wood digging deeper into my leg before the pressure was too much and it flicked out, landing in front of my foot.

I screamed a little and the tears pressed harder out of my eyes. I didn’t want to move anymore, at least not yet. The pain in my leg was unbearable. I couldn’t hardly breathe anymore, even small shallow breaths weren’t making much of a difference. It was so dark and awful. If I had known it was going to be this terrible, I would have been cremated instead.