Waking Up Dead

another chapter of Midnight Matinee

You open your eyes, feeling disoriented and groggy. It takes you longer than it ought to, to realize that you are not in your own bed. You’re in a tightly enclosed space, dressed to the nines, with your hands folded across your stomach. It isn’t quite stuffy where you’re at, but it won’t take long for it to get there. The ceiling above you is made of pure white satin, the same material is along the sides and beneath you. The pillow under your head feels like the softest cotton. Your body feels strangely heavy, like a limb that’s fallen asleep, but this time it’s your whole body. 
 You try to raise your arms, and while you feel your muscles straining, your arm doesn’t move an inch. You relax, releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. When you next inhale, you notice a subtle difference in the oxygen, it seemed thinner somehow, not normal. You attempt to move a hand, twitch a finger, anything! You’re rewarded when your pinky jolts, sending a feeling of electric shock up your whole arm. You try again and achieve the same results, but this time another finger follows shortly after. By now, your breathing has become labored, and a slow realization has dawned upon you. 
 You’ve been buried alive.
 How could this have happened? You’d gone to sleep in your own ordinary bed, feeling perfectly fine in every way. Only to wake up imprisoned within your own coffin. As this epiphany washes over you, you’re seized with sudden panic. Adrenaline surges through your body, from the top of you head down to the tip of your toes. This finally allows you complete control over your body, lending you the strength to shove up against the lid, to scrabble at the satin, pound the ceiling and walls. Yet no matter what you do, no matter how loud you scream; it is all in vain. There is no one to hear you, certainly not through six feet of solid earth.
 It won’t matter in a short while anyway. Your oxygen is gone. You’ve wasted every last breath. Now all you can do is wait for death’s true embrace. Growing more and more light headed with every tainted breath you take. As the darkness begins to envelope you once more, you wonder, 
‘Ought you have been cremated? Surely burning would be far easier than suffocating.’
 In the town morgue;
 A deceased upon a tray in a crematory opens their eyes. They’re completely confused and disoriented. They are able to raise their head the slightest bit, just as the rows of jets flare to life. They know a brief moment of utter shock, before the flames eating their flesh start to burn worse than any idea of hellfire. They watch in horror as their skin peels away, revealing the bloody muscle underneath, then as more melts away they see the white of bone turn a charred black. Even as they scream in excruciating pain, they know it will do no good. There’s no one to hear them, certainly not over the roaring flames. Just before they finally pass out, they wonder,
‘Ought I have been buried in a coffin? Surely suffocating would be less painful than this living hell.’

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