Buried alive

As the darkness closed in I couldn’t help but wonder What was it worth? This life, this being? Why are we incarnated into these mortal vessels and forced to endure this world? All of this death and the sense that you don’t belong. What of this world and all of its beings? What are we to do with this life and experience of this? I guess I will find out soon enough. Dirt walls surrounded me, I had been kidnapped, thrown around, and bruised. Thrown into a hole in the, earth god knows where. I looked up at them and yelled to let me out, screamed for help but no one came to my rescue. They laughed at me as I tried to claw my way out, kicking, jumping, and scratching. I probably looked like an animal in a trap, helpless against the tomb they had built for me to die in and be trapped inside forever.

 They had dug the hole deep enough so that I couldn’t climb out. When they threw me in I had broken an ankle while landing. They started shoveling after I stopped struggling, I tried to brush the dirt off of my body but they just threw more on top of me. It had started to pile up on the ground beneath me, a timer telling me of my impending demise. It piled up on my feet and legs, I stood up on my good leg to gain more time. The dirt kept piling up agonizingly slowly. It was soon up to my waist. I tried to pull myself out, but I was stuck. My broken ankle ached and pain sprang through my foot and up through my leg. As the dirt piled up to my chest I tried to brush it away from my body, shoving it to the side so that I could continue to breathe a little longer. I continued to dig as much as I could. Eventually I started to be completely covered. I started to choke on the soil entering my lungs, I could barely move because of the pressure of the heavy dirt on me. My tears made mud stick to my face, more dirt piled on top of me.

I pushed dirt off of my face the best I could but there was always more. I couldn’t step on top of it, my feet just sunk into the earth. I tried using my hands to pull my body out but they sunk in too, and the weight of the dirt on my body was too heavy to lift. It had been hours since they started, their shovels only held a small amount of dirt. They were almost as exhausted as I was.  My breathing became heavy and labored, I barely had my head uncovered. I felt the grit in my teeth, and tasted the bland, musty flavor of the dirt going into my mouth. I couldn’t move more than an inch with any part of my body, the dirt was packed so heavily. Dirt stuck to my head and face from the nervous sweat I was emitting. I coughed more from the soil in my lungs, and more rained down from above. My eyes hurt from the grit and sand in the dirt, I tried to keep the dirt out of them but it was everywhere. I could feel the bugs crawling on me, all over my body underneath the dirt. Ants bit me as I struggled to unearth more of my head, I flinched at the sensation.

They had almost completely covered me, a few more shovels full of dirt and I would be suffocated. I felt more pressure as more dirt piled onto me. Another shovel full fell on my face, I spit out some dirt and inhaled some. I started coughing profusely, the dirt again entering my lungs. I tried to wiggle my arms and legs to try to get out, it was no use. The dirt pulled loose was quickly filled in by more. I yelled again, my voice was hoarse both from screaming so much earlier and the dirt in my throat and lungs. They scoffed at my efforts. They knew they weren’t getting caught, not today at least. My eyes watered from my coughing and the dirt scratching them. I kept struggling, grasping at straws to stay alive. I shook some dirt off of my head.

 I looked up at the sky for the last time, it was so beautiful. The stars shone so brightly, we must have been pretty far out of town and away from everyone else in this world. I breathed in some fresh air, dirt was the only smell. I looked up again and got more dirt thrown in my face, I didn’t care at this point. I shook it off again and looked up at the stars, I saw the big dipper. I’m not much of an astronomer so that’s the only constellation that I recognized. I saw the north star, and a few more bright stars. Maybe they were planets, the sky was lovely tonight. Maybe in other circumstances I would get a telescope and look at them, but not tonight. Tonight was my last night, decided by the men shoveling dirt onto me. A tear fell, then another. Soon enough I was crying, asking myself why this was happening.

It was too late for that now. I coughed and sputtered as things started to go dim. The dirt had covered my eyes; it was all around my head. I tried to shake it off but not much fell. I couldn’t see or hear anything. I struggled again, trying to free myself but I lost hope very soon this time. It wouldn’t work, it hadn’t so far and I was exhausted. I said my last goodbyes to the world and was covered completely by the soil they threw. I couldn’t breathe, I struggled for air but there was only dirt. More and more dirt. I inhaled more and more of it and coughed. Tears fell from my eyes into the dirt. My chest felt so compressed, my lungs felt like they were shrinking. Every time I tried to suck in air my chest felt like there was a vacuum in it, trying to pull something in but there was nothing. I started to feel lightheaded and dizzy. The lack of oxygen would cause me to lose consciousness soon, I cried and coughed and tried so hard to gasp in any air that I could. There was nothing but dirt all around me, for all of eternity there would be nothing but dirt. I slowly fainted, and that was the last of my life. All ended for a sick joke that I didn’t even understand.

Original work by P.H.

Surgery

I looked down the blade of the knife, it shone under the harsh blinding light of the fluorescents above us. “Well then, let’s get started why don’t we.” She pressed the blade to my cheek, carving out the underside of my left cheekbone. I felt the blood drip down the side of my face onto the operating table. I relaxed my muscles the best that I could. If I were to flinch or jerk my head to the side I could quite possibly lose an eye, or she could possibly nick my nose. “Well sugar, you’re a trooper aren’t you?” she said with a sickeningly sweet snicker. “We’ll see about that then wont we…” she stated coldly.

She turned and grabbed a sharpie from the table of tools just out of my view. She popped off the cap and started marking a dashed line on my right thigh, then vertically across my left kneecap. She moved to my abdomen and made another dashed line across my belt line. A shiver went down my spine and she must have noticed because she stopped and said, Oh? Nervous aren’t we… Don’t worry, this procedure will be over before you know it.” She let out a creepy giggle that made me cringe. She went back to work with the lines over my body.  When she was done she picked up a rubber tube from the table with her tools and moved to my right leg and tied it above the dotted line she had made earlier, then she picked up a sharp and jagged saw from her table of tools. “This is probably going to hurt… a lot.” She smiled at me sweetly. “Try not to scream, it messes me up.” She took the saw and started to saw at the line on my thigh, excruciating pain shot through my body while the majority was focused on my leg. I wanted to scream and cry and try to escape but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t bring myself to move a muscle in my body. I sat there and took it, all of this pain. She hadn’t sedated me, or done anything to stop me but tied my arms and legs down. I just couldn’t move.

She continues to cut and slice away at my skin, ripping open my flesh painfully. Tears fell from my eyes but I still made no sound. I didn’t move or flinch, I only trembled. She kept cutting and laughing, though I don’t know why. The pain almost caused me to faint. I stayed awake through the entire process of my mutilation. She would turn to me and talk sometimes, but I didn’t hear a word she said. At one point I looked down at my abdomen to find that she was removing my organs. Another tear slid down my cheek and I looked back at the ceiling to try to avoid thinking about it more. My mind wandered to all of the things I would normally think about before I fell asleep, things to keep me awake and make my mind race.

I felt a strange pressure on my thigh, she had removed the rubber tie that was stopping me from bleeding out. “Well darling, it’s been fun but I’ve got to run off to my next playdate. Goodbye sugar!” She ran off before I could protest. I sat there in a pool of my own blood, in the most pain I’ve ever been. Finally, I couldn’t take anymore. I screamed, I let out the demon inside of my lungs. I broke the silence taking over my world. The last thing I heard in my mortal life was the sound of my own wails of agony.

Original Work by P.H.

Witch

The villagers didn’t understand. I was a doctor, not a Satanist, or a witch, or a necromancer. I was a normal human being like them. I used herbs and strange methods to heal people. My medicine is unconventional, yes. I would never hurt anyone. A woman with a genetic disease that I was trying to treat had died, there was nothing I could do. They thought that I had poisoned her. If it wasn’t for my medicine she wouldn’t have even lived this long anyways.

All my life I had been different. I loved to wander the forest to search for herbs, to make tea or perfume. I loved to mix and create little things like that. My mother encouraged me to learn how to use my talent for medicine, so that I could help people. I healed so many. People started saying that I was a witch serving Satan, tricking them into thinking I was a healer only to poison and kill them. They said I would soon sacrifice them to the devil. Why would I do such a thing? I was born and raised in this town, among these people. So were my family for generations before me, but they didn’t think anything of it. They were convinced that I was evil.

They laughed as they drug me from my home, men grabbing me by my hair and arms while I kicked and struggled against them. They pulled me into the street and threw me to the ground. More men took their place and tied my hands behind my back, then they grabbed me again. It was a riot, people holding torches and shovels. “Witch!” they screamed,” Demon!” they yelled. I dared not retaliate, I might be clubbed if I dare say they were wrong. I felt the hair ripping out of my scalp as the men drug me by it. Savages. My wrists started bleeding from the rope rubbing against them harshly. I focused on the pain, distracting myself from my nearing end.

I didn’t cry as they dragged me towards the tree. My knees scraped across the rough gravel, bleeding and bruising. I didn’t scream as they tied the noose around my neck, or when they poured the cold gasoline on my body. “Any last words, witch?” I hung my head, only looking at the ground. They laughed again. They were amused at my agony. They didn’t want a witch dead, they were bored and wanted a show. They pulled the noose tighter around my neck, then took a torch and lit the gasoline covering my body. I screeched as my skin melted off of my body, I was being cooked alive. They started to pull the rope tight to hang me from the tree. I choked on my screams, I couldn’t breathe. I struggled as I hung in the air, swinging around like a fish out of water. They laughed more. I started to tremble, I didn’t have enough energy to swing anymore. Why didn’t my neck snap? Why won’t this end?

I finally fainted from lack of oxygen, I dreamt of a meadow with all of the flowers and herbs I could ever want. It was beautiful. I was in my own little world, I helped the sick animals. I used the honey from bees in my tea, and made my own cottage in the woods near that meadow. That was heaven. I slept forever and never woke up.

Original Work by P.H.

It Lurks

I’m not afraid of the dark. I fear what lingers inside of it, what uses the night to cloak itself from our eyes. Usually you get over this fear when you are a child, but I never did. I saw what was behind that veil that we call darkness, it lurks in the shadows and waits. It wants to maim, and harm, but not kill. Killing you would be too merciful. It wants you to suffer the consequences of it’s actions. It will never take responsibility for what it did, it will hide behind you. Use you as a shield, and blame you for what its done. It will destroy you without hesitation, fast or slow is its decision. It loves the pain that you’re in, it feeds off of negative emotion. It thrives off of pain. It loves to see you fail. You cant escape, it will tether itself to you. Where you go, it goes. What you see, it sees. It knows you, it knows your family, it knows everyone and everything you do.

It is a part of you. A parasite that entered a wound of yours long ago, an infection that never heals. A sickness that cannot be cured by any healer or doctor anywhere. Its always there, looming over you. Looking over your shoulder at everything that you do. Injecting fear, anger, and misery into your veins. Ripping your heart out of your chest, only to put it back again, but more broken than it was before. It sucks away your will to live, and to fight for what you believe in. It takes you away from yourself. The crippling fear preventing you from fighting back. It will be the end of you. You can try to stop it, but it will never let you win.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 2

I have so little time left. I have cut out all of the toxic people from my life, all of the people who I thought were my friends but never really were. My parents just want me to do the testing that the doctors are suggesting, I don’t want that to be the rest of my life. Needles, tubes, and monitors reminding me that I am running out of time faster and faster every day. I walk through the city every day; I look at all of the beautiful things that I missed. All of the things that I was just too busy to look at before. All of this graffiti under the bridges is more beautiful than most things seen in art museums. There is a beautiful mural of an Indian, he is wearing a handsome feather headdress and there is an eagle on his shoulder. He is also gazing up at a picture of the moon, he is so graceful and diligent looking. He is beautiful.

It has been a long few weeks. I can’t walk anymore, my legs gave out and my parents took me to the hospital. I have been refusing to sign their papers for testing for several weeks, but I am losing my hands and arms as well. I fear that this is it. I have scheduled a meeting with my doctors for this evening, I am going to sign the waiver for them to start testing on me. I have to sacrifice my freedom to buy some more time. Hopefully this will cure me, and I won’t have given up for nothing.

The testing is painful, lots of needles. Lots of skin samples. Lots of loud beeping monitors. The room smells of sterilized instruments and hospital food; they have a drip of solution to an I.V. in my arm. The dull pain is slowly driving me mad but I can move less and less by the day, I am trapped here. These white walls and sterilized environment is my prison, god help me.

I can barely move. This treatment isn’t working. So much pain. All of these needles, the scars om my arm from them wont heal. My legs are thin and frail from lack of muscle, and I sit here for hours waiting for death. The doctors say that soon I will be comatose. All of the other patients are fine, what is wrong with me? Nothing is working. I just hope that they don’t try to save me after I’m gone.

Everything is fading, I am so tired. I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. I have so little energy, my life is slowly disappearing before me. They said it would be like this. They said they will put me on life support and continue testing. Why won’t they leave me alone? I am ready. Let me sleep, let me be in peace at last. Let me leave this place. This is the end. This is my end.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 1

The cold on my legs caused goosebumps to form across my skin. My thin, tight jeans didn’t provide much protection from the cold. Spring would be soon, the flowers would bloom, the trees green again. Though, I wouldn’t experience it the same as everyone else. I had been diagnosed with a strange illness. I didn’t bother to remember the name, basically I had developed paralysis. The doctors say that before mid-June I will be completely paralyzed. I will have no feeling in any of my body, I won’t be able to move. I will be a prisoner. My family says that we will try anything to make me better, the doctors keep reassuring them that they will try everything they can. Though I know the truth, it’s all an act. One of the nurses pulled me aside and told me there are no known cures for my condition, I would be a guinea pig in some experiments. Poked, prodded, and injected with whatever they think will work. My parents agreed to sign waivers for me to be used as a test subject. These next few months could be my last free ones, and I don’t want to be somebody’s science experiment.

I refused to sign any papers. My parents were shocked that I didn’t comply, I didn’t want to be a lab rat for the last months of my life, I wanted to be free. I wanted to travel, to see all of the amazing things that people talk about on their death beds. The Grand Canyon, the jungle, the Taj Mahal, going snorkeling in Hawaii.

I walked along the sidewalk and listened to the few birds left in the neighborhood chirp, it’s far too cold for any bugs or other animals, but the birds stay. They could come and go as they pleased, but they stayed. Damned fools. If only they knew to run as fast as they could, get out of here before it was too late. If I had wings like them, I’d fly my ass right out of here, and never look back. Everyone talks about the seven stages of grief when hearing news like this, but nobody talks about the numbness. The sheer shock of it all, somehow you feel less than before. Everyone around you goes through the stages, and you just sit and watch. People often mistake this for depression, but it’s just numb.

My hands keep getting shakier, I’m afraid that soon I will not be able to use them. My body goes numb sometimes and I fear that it is the end, that I am trapped sooner than I expected. I am still free for now. I have been going to the park and looking at the art, it’s beautiful. I am thinking about starting to paint but with the way I have been deteriorating I doubt that my work will get anywhere. Every day my muscles are less and less cooperative, I feel my cage building itself up around me. The freedom is slowly leaving me, soon I will be as much as a statue.

This is a two-part story, part two should be published by the end of march.

Original Work by P.H.

January

January, the cold engulfed me in a gust of icy wind. I shivered as I stepped out into the snow covered grass, the cabin has a fireplace and stays warm enough for me to not wear a sweater if I don’t want to. I gripped the flashlight in my hand harder trying to find some kind of warmth in it to no avail. I had to get more firewood to cook the canned soup I have in the cupboard, the shed had enough to last me a few months or so. I trudged through the snow over to the large shed that held the firewood and coal, I opened the heavy door and stepped inside while I turned on my flashlight.

Something rustled towards the back of the room, squirrels. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to take shelter in the woodshed during the harsh winters here. I ignored the sound and rummaged through the pieces of wood scattered around the floor. I grabbed a few pieces and hugged them to my chest, I heard the rustling again. It was coming towards me, usually they stay as far away as they can get especially in a confined space such as this one. I turned around and shone my light over the wood in hopes to scare away the tiny stalker on my heels. I swear I saw something move but it definitely was not a squirrel. I froze in place waiting for more of a glimpse of it, it was still as the circle of light shook with my hand. I started to step backwards towards the door, but tripped over a piece of wood. Of course I thought my clumsy ass tripping as some weird creature that might kill me is a few feet away from me. I lifted the light back up to where it was before and that’s when I saw it.

It looked like a disfigured furby, its limbs long and skinny. You could see every contour of every bone underneath it’s disgusting, scarred skin. Spots of it’s skin were rotten off exposing the bloody bone and tissue underneath. Then the stench hit me, you couldn’t just see its flesh rotting from its bones you could smell it. It opened its mouth to hiss at me and I saw its yellow, broken teeth decaying and in the same state as the rest of its figure. As it hissed small droplets of spit were forced out with the air, some landing on my feet. I stood up without taking my light off of the creature, it lunged at me arms out trying to grab onto me. It wasn’t more than 3 feet tall, but it moved fast. I ran out the door and slammed it behind me before it could get out, it kept trying to break down the door but it couldn’t being the size that it was. I didn’t have a lock on the shed doors so I held the door shut until I thought it was safe, I started to run to the safety of my cabin but it got out of the door. It was faster than me and before I could run more than a few feet the creature attached itself to my leg. It clawed through my snow pants and jeans and its claws ripped through the flesh of my leg. I yelled in agony and tried to kick it off but it was anchored to my leg. It clawed and clawed at my leg ripping it apart like a paper shredder.

I tried to crawl back to my cabin the pain was too much, it just kept clawing and it was moving up my body. It jumped to my abdomen and clawed again, I couldn’t breathe. My intestine were soon lying in front of me, out of my body turning the snow red. The it clawed out one of my lungs from under my rib cage. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. It all hurt so badly, I couldn’t do anything. I looked on as it took a bite of my liver, then tossed it. It kept taking out my organs and taking one bite, deciding that they weren’t good, then tossing them aside to try another. It ripped open my chest and finally it took my heart. It took a bite, and then dug in to the rest. I died, so much shock and pain. I couldn’t bear it, but finally I was free.

Original work by P.H.