Macabre

Open Casket

The dream was pleasant, peaceful. I stood at the edge of a lush forest. The trees stretching up before me for miles, their greenery brighter than a summer afternoon. I walked through them, my fingers grazing the bristle of their trunks, moss catching beneath my fingernails. The air was delicate with a hint of moisture, easy to breathe. Light filtered in from the canopy, golden beams stretching down to touch my nose.

I could hear birds chirping in the distance, songs of wonder leaving their little lungs. The ground was thick with underbrush, soft leaves in mossy patches, tickling my bare feet as I wandered along. I felt like I was in a fairy tale, something only the purest of minds could concoct.

But fairy tales rarely have happy endings.

As I walked the wind began to pick up. It carried a strange smell with it, musty and old. I lifted my chin to it, inhaling slowly, deeply. It smelled like old wood, mildewed from age, corroded through time. I stopped in my tracks and glanced to the sky. It was growing dark, the happy rays of sunshine turning into the soul crunching black of night. No, not night, something worse. A shiver crept its way up my spine, the air was getting cold. It hung loosely in space, thickening with each passing second. I looked around as the trees began to decay, their branches twisting into gnarly shapes.

The air was getting too heavy to breathe and I began to cough. It was dry and painful, yet something came up into my hand. Dirt, I was coughing up dirt. I looked at my arms, they were covered in it. I watched in horror as scratches appeared on my skin, splinters poking through the pale surface.

This was no longer a dream, but a nightmare.

Suddenly a loud thud shook the world around me. It continued, steady, timed. Each hit saw a part of my dream crumble to ash, the lush foliage hardening to stone. With a final thump, everything dissolved to nothing.

My eyes shot open, my heart racing in its cavity, I looked around frantically, trying to see through the darkness. The thudding was still there, but now it was right above me. I felt around, stretching my arms as far as they could go. I began to panic when my hands met wood. Above me, below me, it was all wood. I coughed as the frame shook, dirt spilling into my lungs.

It was then I realized something. The noise, the pounding all around me, it was a hammer. A hammer forcing nails into wood. My eyes grew wide in terror, my breathing frantic, as the final thump rang out.

After that, I could barely hear the muffled sound of dirt hitting the coffin over my own screams.