I woke up in darkness. It felt like the walls had closed in on me, and when I moved, I found this to be true.
I could not move my body more than a few inches on both sides, and when I tried to sit upright I found the ceiling
had fallen. I thought of those stories I had heard about people being mistakingly burried alive, and it sent panic
through me. How could anyone be so foolish to mistake the death of someone. But that couldn't have happened to me.
If I had been determined dead, I would be dead. They drain the blood out of you before your funeral, which is why
bodies look all pasty white in their open casket at funerals. There must be some other explanation. The problem was,
the last thing I remember was waking up only monents ago.
Maybe I was in another country; just a untraceable body found on the side of some road, now buried in an unmarked grave.
I closed my eyes and tried to control my eratic breathing. If I was burried alive, I did want to waste what little air
I had left hyperventalating. Shock would get me nowhere.


Laying there, I tried to focus on answering the most basic of questions; who was I, and how did I end up here?

In that stillness, I became aware of motion beneath me. Panic set in again and I imagined creatures entagling me just
moments before I realized I was laying in water. It was only a inch deep, and barely lined the bottom of the casket I found
myself in.

Less than a minute had passed since I woke up, and my vision was now able to percieve tiny streaks of light where my feet were.
there would be no light if I was underground, and a flicker of hope ignited upon realizing that I must not have been buried yet.
I was probably waiting in a morgue formy funeral, or at a creamatorium waiting for the ovens to warm up.