Waking from Death (part 1)
Ξ February 8th, 2008 | → | ∇ Writing |
The last thing I remember is her smiling face. It was terrifying. Her light hair hung down around her triangular face, bouncy curls wavering in my fading vision. Whatever was in the syringe had worked quickly. There was excruciating pain. I lost control of my muscles and fell to the floor. She bent over me, her slender, precise hand curling to hold the pulse point in my throat.
I knew I was dead. I had to be dead. There was no breath in my lungs. I watched my body be taken to the morgue, and felt myself dragged along after it, unable to move more than a few feet outside of it. She wouldn’t let them preserve or dissect my body. I was buried the next day. The earth is a comforting dark place. A place where you can rest peacefully. I began to wonder if there was some way to move on. I was trapped, unable to move away from the slowly decaying hulk that was my body. I tried, but it was as though the universe were less than a yard in radius. There was nowhere I could go.
I felt a shock of electricity. A blast of force, and my consciousness, if a dead person possesses consciousness, rippled around me. I blinked. I was in my body. I blinked against the dark, but it was still dark. I began to beat against the lid of my coffin. I screamed. It occurred to me that for whatever reason I was back in my body, I didn’t have much air down here. I stopped moving. A few seconds later I heard a thump, coming down through the ground. Another, and another. The thumps grew louder over the space of a few minutes. Then there was a hard thump against the coffin. I jumped. A few more thumps. The coffin lid opened.
to be continued …
