My whole life, I've been taught that my people were created to serve the Anou. On my 18th birthday, I'm taken from my village and brought to the Stye, the Anou's stronghold, to begin my servitude. Little did I know what that entails. The Anou are cr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
With a gasp, I open my eyes. Pitch-black darkness cloaks me, the musky stale air making it hard to breathe. An eerie familiarity raises the hairs on my neck; it's like a horrible déjà-vu sensation of my worst nightmare.
But it can't be.
It just can't.
Searching around me, my hands only run over rough, solid walls.
Right. Left. Above. Below.
Panic seethes, ripping through me and immobilizing every other fiber of my existence.
No, no, no.
Not again.
I pound against the wood with every ounce of my strength. The boards don't give; only sand seeps through the tiniest gaps between the panels. My breath fails me and I gasp for air.
"Help!" The shriek hurts my ears. "Help! Help!"
I pound harder, my body thrashing to break through the tight confines. It's to no avail. The coffer was built to sustain the test of time.
"Help!" Tears stream down my face. "Help!"
Why doesn't anyone hear me?
As the strength leaves my arms, desperation settles in.
I'm gonna die.
"Help!"
The shrill cry has been reduced to a whisper. I hit the top of the casket, again and again, but nothing caves. No light that gives me hope that one of the prayer guards has heard me and has started to dig. I'm alone—trapped—underground.
Silence.
Darkness.
The stench of death.
"Please help me."
I choke on the words. My fists ache and burn; there is no more strength left in my arms. Every breath stings my lungs and the oxygen level is so low that my head swims.
It won't be long now.
Just as I'm about to surrender to succumbing calmness, a new bout of panic claws at my chest. The walls are closing in.
But how?
Closer and closer, they crowd around me, squeezing the little life that this left out of me. I scrape over the wood, my fingernails down to the skin, throbbing and bleeding, my head close to bursting open. Nothing breaks the stillness but my hysterical sobs; my will to live is crushed with every winding second, the helplessness paralyzing. I'm slipping away.
