Disinter


After screaming for help and scratching at the box, buried far beneath the dirt, for hours, I gave up. I gave up my fear of the ungodly darkness, of suffocation, of death and let it come upon me in as natural a way as possible.

That was two years ago. This morning I heard the heavy machinery above my desiccating body and knew they were finally going to disinter me.

The nearer the hand shovels came, the more I could hear them talking between each other. There was fear and trepidation in their voices.

As felt my casket lifted from the ground, I wondered, “Why are they so scared, after all, I’m the one that was buried alive.”

3 thoughts on “Disinter”

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