The first thing you notice is the smell of pinewood. The scent reminds you of disinfectant and leaves your mouth with a slightly bitter taste. The next thing you feel is a small ache in your back. It feels completely stiff. You try to adjust your body into a more comfortable position. However, you must be more sleep addled than you previously thought because your limbs are not cooperating and they seem to be numb. In fact, the only sensation you can feel on your body comes from your back. You try moving your right hand.
Nothing
Your attempts with your left hand and both of your legs leave similar results.
Panic starts to wash over your body. You quickily try opening your eyes. They feel like someone had stuck them together with crazy glue, but eventually your forceful struggle to open them succeeds and you take in your surroundings.
Everything is pitch black. Your pupils dialate in a vain attempt adjust to the dark. You can see a faint outine of a smooth surface six inches from your face. This isn't your bedroom-that much is certain.
You crane your neck upwards to survey the rest of your surroundings. The surface you first noticed, looks to be made out of wood. When you look down, the wood continues to go in both directions, encompassing you entirely.
You are trapped in
Dread starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach.
This is really bad. Why are you stuck in some wooden casing and why couldn't you move most of your body? What was going on?
Fear motivates you to renew your efforts at moving your limbs. You can sense, some feeling has returned to your legs. They feel dull and extremely sore-like they haven't been used in weeks. You ignore the pain and focus on getting them to move.
Your left leg gradually starts to shift and it continues to do so until it comes into contact with wood four inches away. There's less room in here than you originally thought.
Claustraphobia begins settling in. The walls are too close. They are caving in on you and your body is powerless to stop them. You couldn't tell if you well even breathing. Your brain is screaming at you.
Get up! Stop being a pussy and MOVE!
But you can't. You are pathetic and your body betrays you. The dark, the fear, and the unknown terrifies you. Hot tears sting at your eyes and you laugh internally that even now with the rest of your body shutting down, atleast your tear ducts still work.
You feel tears slidding down your face.
You are worthless
They have been steadily falling and are now working their way down your lips.
Pitiful
Salty liquid trails into the curve of your neck.
Nobody cares about you
By now the cold tears have reached your heart.
Weak
White hot rage was boiling underneath the surface. Everything you did ended in failure. You were so tired of being weak. So tired of giving up. You could do this.
A shot of adrenaline and something else, forced you to kick the wooden casing hard. A thud resounded inside the casing and it motivated you to try again. You kicked the same spot relentlessly over and over. You don't know how long it took, but finally a crack had formed in the area.
You can't help but let a smile slip.
A surge of strength suddenly rushed through your body. Your arms jolted in response and your legs compulsed briefly. Feeling had somehow returned to your limbs. A sigh of achievement briefly escapes your lips and you sit up a bit in victory. Lifting your hands, you give a great upwards heave against the wooden casing.
Dirt and soil come filtering down on you almost immediately. But, whatever was powering you before, enabled you to push past the layer of earth like it was play dough.
Freedom at last
The smell of freshly mowed grass assualted your senses as you climbing out of the ground. It was night time and the moon shone more brightly than you've ever remembered. It almost looked like an illuminating round paler version of the sun.
You take in the sight before you. Tall oak trees, fields of grass, and most importantly, rows of gravestones.
A cemetary? Wha -Why are you here? Just what the actual fuck is going on?
You spin around and come face to face with a tombstone.
Lucy Quinn Fabray
Our wonderful Daughter
1995~2014