Claustrophobia

The crowd, struck with grief, watched as my polished coffin was settled six feet under. My inheritors babble while watching the dirt begin to pile atop the tan surface. They didn't know. I didn't either, until it was too late.

My eyes crack open, my mouth dry and the atmosphere thick. I pull my head up and my neck is stiff. Blam! I feel a bruise begin to form on my forehead. It was so terrifyingly dark. I feel my chest heave as the hyperventilating commences.

"Hello? Hello!?" I wail. I begin to scream and kick, the confined walls trapping me. The air thickens and I panic more. I feel around. The velvety case is softly caressing my back. Racking my brain I think of what had happened.

"Where am I?" The question freely escapes my lips, "Who am I? What's happening?" I inwardly cringe at my hoarse voice and the raw feeling bubbling up in my throat. My thoughts darken as I think of the horrific thriller movies I've watched.

Kidnaped? No, no. A killer thought dawns upon me.

I've been buried alive. I feel my chest rise and fall at a much quicker rate.

"Help! God, someone! Anyone! Please," my voice cracks and I tremble. My screaming and quick breath intakes makes the air feel thicker as dread grabs my intestines and curls it into a tight knot. The air was running low. I was going to suffocate. I jut my legs up kicking the roof of the casket, I had to break free. I don't wanna die. Bile rises up into my mouth and I cover my lips so I don't vomit. It's too thick to break.

I'm going to die. This can't be happening. This never happens. I've been so lucky. Bad things don't happen to me. I stare blankly into the eternal darkness, sobs crawling out of my mouth like cockroaches. I mutter prayers, but I know it's over. I can barely get wind inside of me.  My panic attack wasted so much precious air. I hate myself, my family. Why did they get this kind of thick wood, the wood that would encase me for centuries to come. The air becomes even denser and I feel myself choke slightly. The walls feel like they collapsed on me as every breath I have ever took in my whole life is strangled from me. I feel my arms mindlessly push the walls, trying to make the walls back away. Give me space to move and gulp down as much oxygen as my dying lungs could ever wish for. I took the ability to breathe for granted. My eyes go wide and I let out one final gasp. One final plead. My last words...

"Help... me..."

The world spirals into a meaningless pit of blankness.




Claustrophobia- the irrational fear of being in a confined space.