Unrivaledneo
Member
Massachusetts, 1877
Although his eyes were open, he could not see. The darkness that enveloped him was thick and no signs of light penetrated. He squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them, hoping for his eyes to adjust. But the blackness persisted to surround him, giving no signs of resistance.
He listened for sounds around him. The only sound audible was that of his heart beating heavily in his chest.
Confused, he sat up, only to be stopped by an object above his head. He grunted, dropping back down, and rubbed where his forehead had hit, then slowly lifted his hands, searching the darkness for the object with which he had collided.
He froze, his heart beating faster, its sound echoing in his head. Trying to remain calm while ignoring the thought that had entered his mind, he ran his hands across the barrier until it ended to both sides of him.
Arms halfway outstretched, he followed the walls on either side until his hands came to rest besides him. As he rubbed his hands against the wooden base he lay on, a terrible fear swept through him, that first thought returning with a quickness that stopped his breath..
He quickly retraced his movements, feeling the plank above him and the walls to either side. He then lifted his arms above his head, knocking his knuckles against another barrier.
He began to breathe quickly, fingers of panic caressing his chest as he pushed his body down, only to be stopped by another wall below him.
A painful knot seized up his chest as he lay stretched in the coffin.
No, he thought, weakly punching the lid above his head.
Buried alive.
Tears welled in his eyes, refusing to fall. He tried to swallow back the fear but the knot in his chest fought back.
A noise startled him until he realized that it was he who had made it. He closed his eyes tightly, as if the action could hold back the sobs that threatened to pass through his lips. When it did not work and another moan escaped, he tightened his jaw and hissed from behind clenched teeth.
Buried alive.
"No," he groaned, and the word echoed back at him, for a moment silencing the beating of his heart. Then the beating resumed, faster, louder, and he began to whimper.
Soon his whimpering changed to a terrible cry, and he began to beat his fists on the coffin's lid, scratching at the corners, searching for purchase. His cries grew stronger, cries of horror and pain, and he struggled to escape his prison. He clawed at the barrier above him, his nails tearing and bleeding, tears finally letting loose, running trails down the sides of his face. Thrashing, he tried kicking the lid but could not bend his legs in the confined space.
Buried alive. Buried alive.
He screeched, the words echoing in his head in tune with the beat of his heart. He screamed for help, screamed for release, heard himself screaming his wife's name, the names of their sons, for God.
As he beat at the walls surrounding him, a rawness growing got in his throat, he suddenly saw a vision of his wife and sons. A vision not of memory but of imagination. The three of them standing could above an open grave, dressed in mourning black, as a coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
His coffin.
Unknowing that he had been buried alive.
"No!" he yelled, voice cracking, his bloody hands beating helplessly on the coffin's lid.
Please, God, no, he pleaded, his tears slowing. Please oh please no please…
Suddenly, he froze, his heart pounding violently.
…thrump…
He heard the noise again, loud and thundering in his confined space. He held his breath, straining to hear another sound over the thundering of his heart.
…thrump…thrump…
Hope rose as he listened to the dirt being thrown atop the coffin's lid.
"I'm alive!" he screamed as another spade full of dirt hit the lid.
"No!" He began beating harder on the lid, adrenalin rushing through his body. Using his fists and his legs, he beat on the lid, screaming and begging, the blood warm and sticky on his knuckles.
Another thud. Another.
Then silence.
"Help!" he yelled, voice cracking, his heartbeat so hard it felt as if it would explode from his chest.
Then a new noise. And another. He realized the noises were not from thrown dirt but from feet landing on the coffin. He wept with relief when he heard muffled voices and tears of joy rushed from his eyes as he heard their hands scraping earth from the coffin's lid.
As he cried, he felt the numbness in his hands and heard the beating of his heart, and the signs of life filled him with happiness.
When the last of the dirt was scraped from the coffin's lid, his left arm shuddered and he rubbed it, grinning like a maniac, ignoring the pain as he awaited his release.
And as the lid was slowly pried open, he thanked God, over and over.
Then the lid was lifted, the bright sunlight blinding him, and he laughed with pure joy as two shocked faces looked down on him--a bloodied fisted, living man, laughing hysterically in a coffin six feet below the ground.
"Dear God," one man muttered as he genuflected.
He squinted up at them, smiling, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the pain in his arm moved to his chest and the quick beating of his heart ceased.
The two men continued to stare down at the dead man, his bloodied right fist clenched to his chest, a smile of pure joy etched upon his face.
Although his eyes were open, he could not see. The darkness that enveloped him was thick and no signs of light penetrated. He squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them, hoping for his eyes to adjust. But the blackness persisted to surround him, giving no signs of resistance.
He listened for sounds around him. The only sound audible was that of his heart beating heavily in his chest.
Confused, he sat up, only to be stopped by an object above his head. He grunted, dropping back down, and rubbed where his forehead had hit, then slowly lifted his hands, searching the darkness for the object with which he had collided.
He froze, his heart beating faster, its sound echoing in his head. Trying to remain calm while ignoring the thought that had entered his mind, he ran his hands across the barrier until it ended to both sides of him.
Arms halfway outstretched, he followed the walls on either side until his hands came to rest besides him. As he rubbed his hands against the wooden base he lay on, a terrible fear swept through him, that first thought returning with a quickness that stopped his breath..
He quickly retraced his movements, feeling the plank above him and the walls to either side. He then lifted his arms above his head, knocking his knuckles against another barrier.
He began to breathe quickly, fingers of panic caressing his chest as he pushed his body down, only to be stopped by another wall below him.
A painful knot seized up his chest as he lay stretched in the coffin.
No, he thought, weakly punching the lid above his head.
Buried alive.
Tears welled in his eyes, refusing to fall. He tried to swallow back the fear but the knot in his chest fought back.
A noise startled him until he realized that it was he who had made it. He closed his eyes tightly, as if the action could hold back the sobs that threatened to pass through his lips. When it did not work and another moan escaped, he tightened his jaw and hissed from behind clenched teeth.
Buried alive.
"No," he groaned, and the word echoed back at him, for a moment silencing the beating of his heart. Then the beating resumed, faster, louder, and he began to whimper.
Soon his whimpering changed to a terrible cry, and he began to beat his fists on the coffin's lid, scratching at the corners, searching for purchase. His cries grew stronger, cries of horror and pain, and he struggled to escape his prison. He clawed at the barrier above him, his nails tearing and bleeding, tears finally letting loose, running trails down the sides of his face. Thrashing, he tried kicking the lid but could not bend his legs in the confined space.
Buried alive. Buried alive.
He screeched, the words echoing in his head in tune with the beat of his heart. He screamed for help, screamed for release, heard himself screaming his wife's name, the names of their sons, for God.
As he beat at the walls surrounding him, a rawness growing got in his throat, he suddenly saw a vision of his wife and sons. A vision not of memory but of imagination. The three of them standing could above an open grave, dressed in mourning black, as a coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
His coffin.
Unknowing that he had been buried alive.
"No!" he yelled, voice cracking, his bloody hands beating helplessly on the coffin's lid.
Please, God, no, he pleaded, his tears slowing. Please oh please no please…
Suddenly, he froze, his heart pounding violently.
…thrump…
He heard the noise again, loud and thundering in his confined space. He held his breath, straining to hear another sound over the thundering of his heart.
…thrump…thrump…
Hope rose as he listened to the dirt being thrown atop the coffin's lid.
"I'm alive!" he screamed as another spade full of dirt hit the lid.
"No!" He began beating harder on the lid, adrenalin rushing through his body. Using his fists and his legs, he beat on the lid, screaming and begging, the blood warm and sticky on his knuckles.
Another thud. Another.
Then silence.
"Help!" he yelled, voice cracking, his heartbeat so hard it felt as if it would explode from his chest.
Then a new noise. And another. He realized the noises were not from thrown dirt but from feet landing on the coffin. He wept with relief when he heard muffled voices and tears of joy rushed from his eyes as he heard their hands scraping earth from the coffin's lid.
As he cried, he felt the numbness in his hands and heard the beating of his heart, and the signs of life filled him with happiness.
When the last of the dirt was scraped from the coffin's lid, his left arm shuddered and he rubbed it, grinning like a maniac, ignoring the pain as he awaited his release.
And as the lid was slowly pried open, he thanked God, over and over.
Then the lid was lifted, the bright sunlight blinding him, and he laughed with pure joy as two shocked faces looked down on him--a bloodied fisted, living man, laughing hysterically in a coffin six feet below the ground.
"Dear God," one man muttered as he genuflected.
He squinted up at them, smiling, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the pain in his arm moved to his chest and the quick beating of his heart ceased.
The two men continued to stare down at the dead man, his bloodied right fist clenched to his chest, a smile of pure joy etched upon his face.