It happened so quickly, I was driving to work, it was an awful night, the rain was pouring down, the thunder and lightning only made the evening that much worse. Then, I saw it, a semi truck speeding towards me, its horn blaring, the lights blinding me, then a horrible crunch, pain then nothing. No thoughts, no feeling just an empty nothingness. I was dead, killed by a truck that had lost control. There is no point in feeling bad for me, it happens so people have good luck, others, well others don’t.

I don’t know how long I was in this nothingness, but all I know is that when I woke up, I hurt, and barely could move, my muscles where still and protested my desire for them to move. I felt cramped, and the air was stale. I opened my eyes and saw only darkness, I reached out and my hands connected with something solid. “What the hell?” I hit what ever it is that’s in my way, and curse again, whatever it is, its solid. Slowly the memory of the truck coming at me creeps into my mind, I start to feel my surroundings, soft, and silky with some lace, I try to move, but I seem to be in a box, a coffin. I scream, crying out for help. How could this happen? How could they assume that I was dead, clearly I’m not! Or wasn’t if I don’t get out I may soon be dead for real this time. I start to pound the coffin lid, doing my best to ignore the pain and push through it. And soon, at least so it seemed I felt the lid give way, heard the loud crunching of the wood splintering, then felt the dirt come pouring in. I felt my heart pound in my chest, felt the pressure of six feet of dirt on top of me. I gather my thoughts, at least the best I could. I start to craw higher, moving the dirt. Climbing the best I can. I try to control how much dirt falls on top of me, I can’t let too much fall or I’ll be trapped. Trapped with now air. I move slowly but at a steady pace. Moving little by little. The ground seems to cool the higher I go, soon I think I can hear birds. Or at least something that is not dreadful silence. Then at last. Somehow, a miracle, my hands break through the surface of the ground, then my arms. Slowly. Delicately I pull myself from the ground, from my grave. I gasp for fresh clean air, soaking up the cool air. It’s dark out, all except for the moon, it lights up the cemetery, it’s creepy I’ve never been to a cemetery at night. I get up and start to walk around the graves. It’s a slow ambling walk, but I make progress to the gate. I need to go home, I need to leave. But deep down. In the back of my mind a quite voice, a worried voice says that something is wrong… very wrong. They don’t just burry people, and those same people don’t burst from their coffins then climb out of the grave. It I don’t want to think of that, or more of I don’t want to think about what that can mean, or all the terrible possibilities that could lead to. So I push it back and not worry about it for now, right now I need to find a way out. Find my way out then home.