I wake up and it’s pitch black. The air is thin and hard to breath. I have to take extremely small breaths. I try and scan my surroundings but my lack of vision makes it difficult. I hear nothing, I don’t see anything and I can’t smell or taste anything either. I do however feel long wooden boards on all of my sides. They reach from above my head to below my feet. I can feel that I am laying down. I push on the boards and realize that I am in a box of some sort. I start to panic. I start kicking and pounding and beating on the wood but a sense of mortality and lifelessness rush through me. I realize that I am not bashing the surface at all because I’m not moving. My fear grows larger. I then attempt to scream and yell and shout the words “Help me!” but my mouth never shifts.
What’s wrong with me? I think, Why can’t I move? I try all types of maneuvers: tapping my fingers, scrunching my toes, wiggling my hips. Nothing is working and I am going into shock. I start to hyperventilate and blood rushes to my head but it seems like I’m not breathing and have no pulse. Someone drugged me I think, that’s why I am acting like this. I struggle and struggle for what seems like hours. I yell and punch and try to move but every attempt results in the same thing: no movement.
I try and catch my breath and try not to think of what may become of me but it is inevitable. As I stare at the empty black space in front of me, I think of death and how cold and lifeless I feel. The thoughts of never getting out start to occur. Tears begin to stream down my face as the end of me gets closer. Giving up seems to be the only option.
“No” I say, “I will get out!” I’m about to start again but I am interrupted by the sounds of muffled voices, familiar voices. I’m filled with hope as I try to shout “Hey! Somebody help me please! I’m stuck in this… in this… box!” I hear them talking but it only sounds like mumbles from where I am.
“What?” I shout, “I can’t hear you! Just please, help me out!” As a couple seconds pass, I can finally make out a few of the voices’ words.
They say “What a shame…. It’s so sad” and “I can’t believe this happened…. I’ll miss you.”
No, I think, do not allow yourself to think that. They must not be talking to you. Yeah, that’s right. They have to be talking to someone else, a loved one maybe? Someone who… I don’t know… they could be… Oh God please help me! No, no, no! I won’t accept it! I am not dead! I’ll get out of here! I swear it! Adrenaline rushes through me as I push through the box and break free.
A bright, white light envelopes me as I get out of the box. As my eyes start to focus, I yell, “Ha! I’m out! I knew I wasn’t dead! I’m… whoa.” The horrible things that I see prevent me from talking any longer. There is a dark and gloomy, cloud-filled sky that represents suffering. One couldn’t help but feel sad under this melancholy sky. The grass that I stand on is all shriveled up and dead. I can see it break off as I walk. And the graves were too many to count. They seem to go on for miles and miles filling up every available space. Every place that I look is haunted by the image of tombstone after tombstone.
I hear the familiar voices and turn around to see my family looming over one of a thousand graves. “You guys! It’s me! I was kidnapped and drugged which made me think I was dead! I finally got out! Oh my gosh! I am so happy to see you!” I run straight for them with my arms open wide. They don’t look at me which is weird but it doesn’t matter because I am just so happy to see them. I keep running and running for what seems like forever and I open my eyes to see that my family isn’t there at all. I look back and see my family, still looking at the grave.
I think, Well that’s weird. How come I didn’t reach them? I run back to them still full of excitement and I realize that it happened again. I freeze. What is happening? There was no way that I could have missed them again.
Turning back, I still see them staring at the grave. Filling with anxiety and fear, I walk slowly to them. As I approach, I spread my arms wide to hug them but I see terrible looks of sadness on each one of their faces.
I ask, “What’s wrong?” and I look down to see my name on the tombstone.