Escape. Escape is the only thought my mind can formulate at this moment. This single second. I feel around the dark, condemning box that I’m encased in. The air thin and suffocating. I slip my fingers through the cracks in the wood. I pull off the plank and dirt flows in. I grasp another plank and push my fingers through the dirt. It feels dry and coarse. I pull two more planks away and dirt falls into my eyes. I press my shoulders through and push my body upwards into the hole. I push through the compact, arid dirt until my face is fully submerged. Lungs scorching, I force my way through until my face feels the warmth of the sun. I suck in a age’s worth of air while hauling the rest of my body up. I spit out muck and soil bugs as I take in the scene around me. The foliage that used to surround my resting place were flattened in what appeared to be a perfect circle. As if a supernatural bomb had been dropped were I’d lain.
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