Still Here

They did this to me. They dared me. They said it was a joke. They said it would be fun. My so-called friends. A cemetery, an open grave left over the weekend. I was surprised the empty coffin was left there too. I didn’t think it worked like that but I didn’t think any more of it.

They dared me to climb inside. Do it, they said, and we’ll film it. It will be hilarious.

So I did. Laughing along, I got inside and lay down.

But their faces as they slammed the lid shut made me realise. This was no joke. This was a trick, a trap. There was something terrifying about the look on their faces as they stared down at me. This wasn’t a prank. They meant this.

I was thrown around as they lowered the coffin down. I pushed at the lid. It wouldn’t budge.

That’s enough. I called. I want to get out. You’ve made your point.

Then came the thudding, jarring sound. I knew what they were doing. It was soil and dirt hitting the coffin lid. They were burying the coffin. Burying me.

It sounded like a thunderstorm as the soil rained down over me.

I pushed, palms flat against the lid. I pushed as hard as I could, as though my life depended on it. Maybe it did.

The soil continued to fall. I seemed to be sinking, slipping underground. It was the sensation of being buried alive. I’d never felt anything like it.

And here I am.

I call out for help, tell them to stop this. Can they hear me through the earth on top of me? Are they even still there?

My friends. I mean we argued a lot, especially recently, but I never expected this. I had started seeing my friend’s ex-girlfriend. Was this retaliation? I thought they were cool with it.

I thought they were my friends. Had they planned all this? This. I can’t even consider the word.

Murder. Buried alive?

Would they go through with it? Maybe they’ll come back. They might. But, I know. I know they won’t.

Maybe they want to teach me a lesson.

I shout again. I yell. I swear. I cry. I howl. I’m sorry, I scream. Let me out, I’ll do anything.

Wait. Is that something? Can I hear something? Are they coming back? Maybe it is a joke after all. I listen hard but all I can hear is my heartbeat.

Maybe they’ll dig me out, pull back the coffin lid and we’ll all laugh. Your face, they will say. You were so scared, they will tease. And I’ll laugh in utter relief. Maybe the prank will be the pay-back for dating Emma.

I can’t hear anything now.

In the glow of my mobile phone, I can see nothing but the inside of this coffin. I have no room to move at all. It’s like the time we played hide and seek as a kid. I hid in a wardrobe and the door got stuck. I got so scared and started crying. My mind goes back to that day. This reminds me of that day.

Except this is not a childhood game.

I push and kick against the lid off the coffin. Nothing doing. The smooth polished wood doesn’t budge. I push and press. I strain. I do it until my arms hurt.

The air seems to be getting thinner. Is that how it will happen? Will I run out of oxygen? I’ve never been scared of getting stuck in a lift but right now I can fully understand that fear. The terror of being trapped in such a small space with no way out.

Of all the things and people that could pass through my mind, I can’t help thinking that I’ll never finish reading the book I am reading. I’ll never know how it ends. I’ll never know who the murderer was. I laugh at the irony. The laugh becomes a cough and then a sob. I can feel myself panic.

My phone. I have no signal but the small screen shows that somehow I have a connection to the internet. I take a deep breath. Try to calm down. I can’t think straight. Maybe being below ground does this to you? I don’t know. My thoughts are hazy. I feel like I’ve been drinking.

I am tapping away, tapping away on the bright screen of my mobile phone.

Will anyone be reading this? I’m sending this before my phone dies. I don’t have long. I’m posting it all over the place. I’m plastering it over social media and random websites, anyplace I can find. Just posting away. This is my virtual scream, my cyber call for help. I pray these aren’t my last words.

Maybe someone will read this and trace my location somehow. It’s a long shot, I know, I don’t really have a lot of options. My phone battery is flashing red now.

I am sending this out before my phone battery runs out and before I

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom