the beautiful grave (book II)

resurrection

krista

I'm dying.

     As I scraped, scratched and pounded my fists furiously at the white linen inside of my claustrophobic prison, I was too late when I realized I was losing oxygen.

     I didn't want to die, not when I was trapped in a place like this. It was a horrible way to go, not remembering how I got here or who did this to me.

     My nails bent back, pushing back into my cuticles and breaking off. Although I hadn't heard my panicking movements or much less anything else, I screamed at suffering the loss of my nails. I'd never had much to begin with – I could tell they hadn't been unusually long – but it hurt all the same. It looked like my knuckles were getting their half of the deal, too. I didn't try wasting my breath on expressing how much I'd been injured; I had to maintain as much oxygen as I could.

     My knees chafed together as I kicked them in effort. I'd snapped something in my small prison; it sounded a lot like a block of wood. I hadn't even thought until now about where I was.

     I was in a coffin.

     But why would I be in one? Had somebody assumed me dead and threw me in? I had a pulse, I was breathing right now. They couldn't say they hadn't felt a heartbeat; it was beating frantically. It was chaos inside my chest.

     Who made the mistake in thinking I was dead?

     Or maybe... I wasn't fully considering it; regarding how ridiculous it seemed that somebody would want to do it... maybe someone was holding me captive. You know, for ransom.

     At the thought of it, I forgot about my promise not to scream, it was muffled and choky and it hurt almost as much as my legs.

     Thankfully, after being under here a few minutes, I felt soil pour down my matted flesh and begin to fill the space. It flowed effortlessly, rising to faster than I'd hoped. I had to get out before I suffocated.

     So much adrenaline, so much panic that breaking wood seemed easy. The linen hung in shreds or on a spot on my chest, a nuisance I needed to get over.

     With a gasp, I'd broken through my prison and crawled through the earth, diving headfirst into it while holding my breath again. I had to make it to the surface before I passed out, quickly.

     It wasn't as much of a struggle as I'd thought. Once my hands lay flat on something, I knew I'd reached the outside of my would-be deathbed. With energy and strength I didn't even know I had, I clambered up and kept going until I was sitting on my knees on top of a large patch of dirt.

     Looking all around me, it seemed I'd been buried under a willow tree. It was hauntingly beautiful, but it didn't fit in with the rest of its surroundings. This place was big enough to be a castle, all dark and suspicious looking. Fireflies flew in the air, buzzing and glowing at me like they were leading me where to go.

     It was either I follow them or stay here like a freak, gaping at everything around me.

     Just before I got up to pursue them, a shiny piece of jewelry caught my eye. Gathering it in my palm I studied it as closely as the dark would allow me, unable to recognize it. It was beautiful – a simple small pink rose – but I couldn't distinguish where it came from. I was certain it wasn't mine, so I left it to catch up with the fireflies.

     I followed them to two huge black doors, a reception office situated beside it, but it was fortunately unoccupied. I waved goodbye to my insect friends and pushed down on the large metal bar. Hopefully, it would lead me to my freedom.

     Once outside, I decided it was best if I leave no time for anyone to find me and made a dash for it. A black gate stood in the way, but I found a small space to squeeze through.

     With that done, I kept running and didn't stop until I was sure I was safe.