Buried Alive

I could barely move. My eyes were almost swollen shut. Carl checked the time. ‘Twelve o’clock, the witching hour.’ He flung away his cigarette, kicked a handful of dust onto my face. I choked. He jumped down, rolled me to the side, turned on the oxygen cylinder, strapped a mask over my face. He removed something from his pocket and thrust it into my hands. It was a pocket flashlight. ‘I’m being generous, considering what you just did. If you die and turn into a ghost, go haunt your boyfriend. He’s the one who failed to save you.’ He climbed out of the pit. With the tip of his shoe, he kicked the wooden lid shut. I was swallowed by instant darkness. But that wasn’t the worst part. I fumbled for the flashlight, switched it on, held it to my chest. I heard a swoosh. Then another. Dirt and gravel pelted against the coffin lid, sealing my fate. I moved my left hand up, teared up at the pain of a dislocated shoulder, pushed against the lid. It didn’t budge. I clawed at the lid. It was an ind