The seconds crawled over her body like worms on a decaying corpse. But she wasn't dead. Not yet. Morticia tried to swallow but managed only a dry contraction in her troath. She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Most of the time her pulse was no more noticeable than a lazy, dark midwinter stream covered under a layer of ice and snow. But now her heart seemed to beat it's way out of her chest. Not in that fun and delightful way caused by her dear husbands somewhat demonic lovemaking but in a scary I'm-totally-loosing-control kind of way.
She lifted her delicate hands, each fingernail filed into sharp claws, the flawless red nailpolish invisible in the infinite darkness of the coffin. His dear face flashed before her vision: Dark eyes shone and glimmered in a way they only did when they looked at her. His moustache wiggeled cheerfully. He was laughing. She tried to grasp the beautiful vision with her hands, her heart begging for him to free her. Morticia had reached the very limit of her selfcontrol. That didn't happen very often to put it mildly. This was her vey first time to be buried alive, and she was scared beyond how she liked to be scared. Was it also the last? Was she really going to die like this?
Her nails scratched the moldy wood of the coffinlid above her face. A few of them broke and the pain jolted from her fingers and up her arms causing her to gasp for air only to find there was none left.
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Buried alive
FanficANGST!!! Morticia finds herself buried alive and fighting the panic...Who dared to do that to her? Read and find out ;)
