The Midnight Hour

By Dakota Kirkpatrick All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Thriller

Part 3: Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to the black that surrounded me. It was so dark I began to fear I had gone blind for a moment, before my eyes finally began to adjust. The air was thin, hard to breathe.

“Where am I?” I say.

A ghostly pain radiates in my stomach. I run my hand on my stomach, feeling the small hole just above my belly button. Small stitches cross over the hole in a feeble attempt to seal it.

All around me are walls covered in a soft white pillow like cloth. The reality sets in on me, I’m in a casket. A wave of panic rises in me, a deep claustrophobia sets in. My breathing erratically bursting from me in hyperventilated bouts.

“Help!” I scream, the words only bounce around in the small box.

Every breath I take the air becomes thinner. I feel around my pockets, praying for something to be in them, nothing. I place my hands firmly on the top of the box and push as hard as I can. It gives way about an inch as dirt begins pouring in. I quickly stop pushing in fear I may bury myself further inside the box.

“Fuck!” I scream.

My body is shaking in an intense wave of panic.

“Think, think.”

The faint sound of someone talking breaks through the mound of dirt above. I can’t make out the words, but someone is out there.

“Help, can anyone hear me.” I shout.

Nothing, no response, no rescue seems to ensue. I look around at the pillowed cloth surrounding. I grab a hand full on the right side and begins ripping it from the casket. A long white strip tears away, I wrap the length of the cloth around my nose and mouth.

“I hope this works.” I whisper.

I tie a knot behind my head, using the cloth as a way to keep the dirt out of my mouth, and hopefully a way to keep breathing in it. I don’t know if it will work but it’s all I’ve got.

I place my hands firmly on the door of the casket once more, heaving it open as hard as I can. The soft fresh dirt fight against me, the door only gaining an inch at a time. Dirt floods into the coffin, covering my legs. I get the door about ten inches open, then start burrowing into the dirt above.

The dirt quickly fills the coffin as I try to escape, I can no longer open my eyes as the dirt engulfs my head. Breathing is not much of an option, only slight wisps of air break through the dense earth until there is none. My torso has made it halfway out of the coffin, I fight to gain some ground as I try digging upward.

My legs finally break free of the coffin as I attempt to make my way. My lungs are exploding, no air can reach them anymore. My hopes of making it to the surface seem to fade as I fight for air, fight for freedom. My body aches, the dirt gives the sensation of being crushed.

I dig with all the strength left I can muster, fighting to break from the grave I’m in. My lungs threaten to fail, the lack of oxygen makes me lightheaded. I keep pushing up, fighting the earths tight grip on me. Suddenly, my fingertips feel a slight chill of wind as it blows onto them.

Yes, I’m close now. My fingers wiggle on the surface, but my lungs are still failing below. My arm is now free, dangling out above the surface. The climb is harder now with only one hand to dig with.

My body begins to writhe in the earth as my lungs fail, the dirt takes advantage once more, holding me in its grasp. The fight has all but left my body as I’m trapped in the ground. My arm lodged above the surface unable to help any further.

My mind begins to flash as my body fails, I choke on the nothingness, almost as if I’m drowning.

“Help!” I scream, but the sound is trapped with me in the earth, never to be heard.

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