Buried alive

Buried alive Chapter 4

Veil of clouds covered a pallid moon floating above the cemetery. There was no wind. Booth the owls and the bats seemed to have flown elsewhere. The only sound in the quiet night was the sound of a shovel cutting into wet soil followed by the thumping sound of the same soil hitting solid ground. The moon unveiled herself and illuminated a masculine form clad in dark colors. Broad-shouldered, hunched over the shovel with a maniacs grin on his face, the man was digging away as fast as he could. He sped up to an almost inhuman pace before the shovel hit something hard. The frightening expression on his face as he shoveled the remaining earth of the ornamented coffin lid made his rather handsome features appear demon-like in the moonshine. His laughter was the greedy chuckle of a grave robber who had reached his ultimate goal.

The composer Rachmaninoff once wrote a prelude which tells the story of a poor man buried alive scratching on the coffin lid in desperation the same way as Morticia did now. There was, alas, no music to this horrid scene, only the lonely sound of her long nails scraping and breaking against the heavy lid. Fresh blood trickled down her pale fingers. She didn't scream or if she did she was not aware of it. The sound of gushing water filled her head while blood red clouds of terror colored her vision.

Then all of sudden there was a light: Not the famous tunnel of love and light greeting the ones about to die, not the shiny gate of Heaven nor the glowing pits of Hell. Just the familiar and oh so lovely face of the silent, old moon faithfully guarding the Addams estate. Her lungs started to gasp for air.