Alive?
"When I was an undergraduate I lived with some guys in a flat.
The flat was very cheap and we thought there was nothing wrong with this flat, until that one day.
When we bought the flat, one of my flatmates checked if all the doors could open and close good enough.
He told us it was because he got claustrophobia.
After he checked each of them, he came to me and said that he only couldn't get the door from one room open.
The woman who sold the flat, said the door was closed for more than forty years.
She didn't know why, so she gave us the telephone number from the people who lived in the flat when the door was locked.
We thought those people lost the key after they locked the door.
But after a few months when we talked about this topic, we wanted to know if there was something else with this room.
We rang to the people from the telephone number but they didn't pick up the phone.
A couple of days later we rang to them again but they still didn't pick up the phone.
We asked the address from those people at the woman who sold the house.
She gave it to us and we ride to 'The People' .
After an hour we were there.
We pushed on the bell.
No response.
After waiting a few minutes we decided to go to the neighbours and ask if 'The People' still lived there.
The answer was: "Yes, do you want the key?"
Our answer was: "Yes, we really need to talk with them."
So we now got the key, we only needed to open the front door and ask what happened with 'The Door' and ask why it is locked.
So we opened the front door and searched for the people we really wanted to see and talk with.
Finally we found them in their bed.
But they didn't move or breathed.
They were dead.
We rang the police.
The police came to the house and said the people had a son but, except his parents, no one has ever seen.
I wanted to go home, but the other guys wanted to go to a pub, so I went home, by train. When I was home I rang someone who wrecked the lock from 'The Door'.
I opened the door and put the light on.
A man, which was the son of the dead people I saw two hours ago, looked at me.
He was very angry and said: "I'm going to do with you exactly the same as I did with my parents."
He walked to me, but I was too afraid to move.
He had a bottle in his hand and a knife in his other hand.
I heard my flatmates open the front door.
The man came closer, but my flatmates too.
They were looking for me, but they couldn't find me.
The man heard it too, he laughed, but when he laughed, someone was really close at 'The Door'.
The man stand in front of me.
He put the bottle higher.
A moment of silence.
When the man smashed the bottle on my head, my flatmate came in.
I felt the floor, but I couldn't move.
My flatmate pushed the man away and took the knife.
I still couldn't move, but I was not dead.
I bled, but I wasn't dead.
My flatmates rang to the police and the police came a few minutes later, the ambulance was there too.
Everyone thought I was dead, but I wasn't.
I felt really lonely at that moment.
My parents were there too and they cried because they thought I was dead, but I wasn't.
2 days later my parents had bought a coffin, I couldn't believe it!
At my funeral I was lying in my coffin and thinking how I have to move.
I opened my eyes slowly.
I was sitting.
My parents saw me, they were happy.
From that moment I have nightmares about people who forgot me.
About the next time I can't move.
About the next time I'm on my own funeral.
About my funeral, when I'm getting buried alive.
They hound me
And that's why I'm here.
Why I don't really trust people anymore.
Why I love my dog who wakes me up when I have nightmares."
The people in the support group looked at Bob.
Bob don't feel forgotten anymore, because Bob is Bob and people understand him.
No one will ever forget he was alive.
