PureVolume

This is something that was published in Pulaski technical colleges Literary Journal. The best part is I wrote it.

Inside Myself I hammer away at the stone enclosing me. The suffocating presence of the rock hard earth is making me claustrophobic. Being buried alive wasn’t on my list of things to do before I die. Terrified that at any moment the wall of firm dirt and rock lingering overhead will fall. I want to cry, let out a scream of pure panic, but I know that’s what he wants. He wants me to be scarred witless. I wont! I struggle to maintain a fixed calm composure. Even in this jet black tomb I know I’m not alone. I imagine a corpse lacking flesh, and what tissue it does have is ridden with maggots squirming through the soft muscle. I would reach over to confirm my gruesome suspicions but I lack the nerves. I wonder when he’ll give up his sick game and free me from this prison. Then relief hits me as I realize if I did have a roommate I would probably smell it, but the only scent I could pick up was an earthy dirt smell and a slight hint of or maybe some other wood oil. Now less afraid of my surroundings I decide to explore my macabre chamber. I gently lift my hand and place it what I think is about 2 feet to my right. A soft thud. That’s not the sound of hand against dirt I think to myself. I grope blindly at this new surface, testing. With a horrified comprehension I realize the familiar object in question. Flesh. I would have jumped if there had been room for that, but all I managed was a sudden lurch into the hard roof of my shelter. Flash! My eyes adjust to the temporary blindness. As my pupils contract I notice the source of the light. Coming from the corner to my left is a tiny bulb underneath a shield of glass. Two things strike me immediately. I’m not in plain dirt like I suspected. It’s not a coffin either. More of a large wooden trunk or chest. Secondly and far worse is that the flesh to my right is attached to a body, and that body is breathing. As my mind struggles to take in so much new information at once it finally hits me why this man lying next to me looks so familiar. He is him! A cruel inhuman beast. He is looking directly at me. His eyes pure black the color of fresh pitch. His mouth is curved to the side against the ground in a wicked smile of delightful sadism. His face is gaunt, skin stretched tight against his bones. His cheeks are sunken in from apparent starvation and his eyes sockets are quicksand. His gaze pulling you under. His skin is a pale white, the shade of a corpse that has been drained of all blood. He chuckles a laugh of an excited toddler. I let out a shriek of frenzied terror and begin kicking wildly. This makes him laugh even more, his face full of pleasure. Then with a sudden shrill cackle the lights go out. They don’t fade peacefully or slowly in dread as in a horror movie, just a sudden snap! I feel his presence evacuate and his laughter halts immediately. My hands shoot upwards to the dangerously low ceiling. To my unwanted astonishment my fingers plunge into soft dirt instead of thumping against the wood. Even more paranoia fills me. A sudden stampede of mulchy earth collides with my face smothering me. The avalanche soon drenches me in a shower of black. I spit gritty plant matter, only to let more flood in. I kick and push my hands struggling at the pressure of the dirt. Becoming over encumbered by the weight, my movement constantly decreasing till the only thing left is the rising and falling of my chest which will soon be crushed unless I suffocate first. My hands are trapped at my sides leaving me nothing to free my nose of the dirt filling my nostrils. I hear a distant laugh but am sure it is in my head. I give up. I inhale cautiously. A mouthful of dirt. I give up. My lungs begin to burn as I inhale filth. They are beating at my insides struggling to keep from drowning in the sea of matter. My brain pleads for air. A beggar desperate for food. My body gives up, reluctantly welcoming the excruciating pain. I attempt to inhale again. I surrender. P.S. theres probably a shit-load of typos in this revison, it's not the final one, I don't have a copy of that one.

Leave a Comment