Writing

Stolen Writing (From me)

Some writing stolen from a previous blog, a story that I had all but forgotten about starting. Eager to start up again…

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I’d only been dead a week before I got offered the job. Offered would be the wrong word, its not like I was exactly given a choice, and to be honest my first few nights, I didnt even know I had a job.

Darkness, I could not see a thing, I was stuck in a small box and I couldnt see a thing. I reached out my hand to feel for a way out, but when I pushed against the lid, it wouldnt budge. I started panicking, banging against the wood, I needed to get out, I was trapped. Where even the hell am I, I thought to myself. All around me was solid wooden panels, and I was lying on some soft padded fabric. Is this, no dont be silly, I couldnt have been… in a coffin. I pushed against the lid again, still no give. Oh God im in a coffin, I’ve been buried alive oh God, oh God. I survived the car and now they’ve buried me and everyone thinks I’m dead. Panic, a lot of screaming, some light headedness, then I passed out.

The sound of banging and scraping woke me. I still felt weak from the lack of oxygen and It took a while for me to get to grips with waking. ‘Hello!’ I called when conciousness had found me ‘Is anybody out there’ I screamed, louder this time ‘Can anybody hear me, im trapped down here…. HELP!’ In my panic I started banging on the lid of the coffin, and on the third of fourth punch the coffin lid flew open, and swung back closed above me, flinging clods of loose soil up in the air, allowing it to immediately fall back down on to my face. I coughed and spluttered clearing the soil from my mouth,  and tentatively pushed the lid of the coffin all the way open. I was in an open grave, lying at the bottom of a pit in the ground, that presumably I was buried in. The soil walls surrounding were about six foot high and damp, swarming with earthworms and other bugs. My clothes smelt damp and dirty. With a little effort I pulled myself up onto the grass.

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