The town of White Oak is well known for its ghost stories and supernatural festivities. However, they aren't used to people coming out of the ground and lighting vehicles on fire with their mind.
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He woke up in the cold. An atmosphere of stale, freezing air. It felt like he had been in a sealed container for ages, breathing in his own stench over and over.
The instant he opened his eyes, dust poured into them, forcing them to slam shut. He was forced to rely on his other senses to take in his surroundings. Already they seemed to be less than pleasant. Trying to ease his way around, he realised there was little space to do so. Everything seemed stiff and rugged like he needed oil for his joints. His hands manage to obey him, following along the sides to find jagged walls at both sides. Under, he took notice of the splinters poking at the skin on his back.
"SOMEONE HELP ME!" Aiden struggled to let out a scream. His lungs and throat were just as dusty as the box he was trapped in. Dirt poured down onto his face through the cracks coughing him to cough aggressively, making even more fall.
Trapped inside a wooden box with dust pouring down. Odd series of events. Unless it was not dust, but rather, dirt and someone was foolish enough to bury him alive. Who would do such a cruel thing? Still, worrying about such measly things is futile. He needed to find a way out of his predicament.
Allowing his hands to roam the wood above, he took notice of weaker boards and many holes embedded in them.
How long has he been down here? With the size of this interior, he would be out of oxygen and dead in less than three hours even while sleeping.
Luckily, the wood was weak enough to break if he applied enough pressure. Even if he did that however, there was nothing to stop the dirt from filling the coffin and suffocating him. Its either he breaks it and makes his way up before he suffocates or prays that someone above can hear him.
"If you want something done, you must do it yourself."
There had to be a way to get out before there was no more oxygen. A safe way that wouldn't leave him buried in the earth.
Thinking it through, the best option was to break a hole to the centre and push the dirt beneath him. There would have to be a second hole directly above him however so he could force his way to the outside, through the remaining dirt. Unfortunately, there was the problem of his limbs being extremely stiff. It would be difficult to push through with his legs and arms barely operational. Even his spine felt as though it had never bent before.
Such a feat would be challenging with these factors present. Never the less, there was no telling how much air he had left. Now or never.
One more thing, something had to be done so he could breathe through the dirt. He did not understand how deep he layed under under the earth; though from the slight dent in the coffin, it must not be that deep. The deeper the box, the more pressure the soil would exert.
Struggling to remove his shirt without excessively hitting the walls, he got the fabric off. Dirt continued to trickle down on his body with every movement.
