The Cauldron

I felt a crushing weight on my chest, like a sorcerer’s cast-iron cauldron impressed on my rib cage. Disoriented in mind and body, I wondered how my survival was even possible. The most I remembered was boarding the plane- had we crashed? Was this all a dream? I forced a painful inhale- but something restricted me- a hitman- I thought- pulling his belt in a noose around my neck. My torso felt leaden and heavy, unusable almost, and the skin on the back of my neck burnt and stung. The crunch of nearby footsteps in the snow reverberated in the seemingly large corridor in which I was trapped, telling me there was an exit- accessible at that- somewhere. The dampened voices of a small group of men were now discernible, and my heart jumped- or at least tried to when a light shone into my eyes and one of the men called out in a meek voice “anyone alive in here?” I responded quickly but to my own surprise, no words came out. My mind knew exactly what to say and yet I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Still all I could think of was what happened and moreover- why was I still alive? Something about my consciousness overwhelmed my thoughts with a bitter taste of gloom. The universe tried to kill me, yet I survived. Is it not right to submit to the actions of a being larger than myself? This constraining casket I lay in was undeniably comforting to my lost state of mind. As my only rescue trudged off to some distant calling, my body was relieved in knowing that the wicked universe got it’s way with me.