The Darkness

I woke up in darkness, cold uncomfortable darkness that made me feel withered like a rotting tree. I moved my arm, which felt like lead, probably because I was still a little ill rested, and went to move my blanket off me, only to realize there was none. I tried to get out of bed, only to hit my head on the ceiling, which was definitely odd. I touched the ceiling with my hands, and the grain on the ceiling was not perfectly sanded; it was very rough. I reached for my glasses on my bedside table only to hit the wall, and then I realized I was lying down on a floor that seemed to be in as bad condition as the ceiling. I finally found out that I was in a wooden box, which seemed to be motionless, and I felt my claustrophobia kick in immediately.

I immediately started pounding on the ceiling of the box, trying so hard to break it, but it was amazingly sturdier than I thought. Finally, it broke away, but then the dirt started to pour in. I moved the dirt away from me and tried to dig myself out, it was hard to do at first, but as I reached the top, the dirt was much lighter and sparse. I started to see a dark pale blue light shining through the dirt, and then I saw the beautiful blue moon that shone brighter than any moon I have ever seen. The moon reflected in the swampy lake next me in a beauty that was almost scary in a way.

Looking into the lake made me remember some of the things that happened earlier. I didn’t know how long it’s been, maybe it was yesterday, but it could’ve been a thousand years for all I knew. I remembered this lake, and how my wife and I went to it on the weekends, it was still familiar, so I guess it hadn’t been too long. I started to recall leaving for work and never coming back to see her face again. I decided to leave the lake and get back home, because I was hungry and wanted some home made food. I couldn’t think straight though, so I decided to hitch a ride on the road, because I couldn’t find a car, not that I was in any condition to drive anyway.

I went out into the road, where it was pretty desolate, and started to walk towards home checking for cars from time to time. However, whenever I signaled for a ride people quickly accelerated and tried to avoid me. The car that I finally ended up getting a ride from was salmon colored from all the rust it had gained. It was probably a Corvette, most likely a 1982 model by the looks of it, sharp and powerful. The driver was not what I’d call reliable looking, for he looked like he was geeking very bad. He was wearing a wife beater shirt and sniffed rhythmically every half minute. Although I was risking my life, I got in, seeing how I was probably on somebody’s hit list.

I looked outside at the moon, which sparked more memories, like when I was at Busch Stadium the day the Red Sox won. I finally remembered my name, Terrence, I started to chuckle, realizing that the name has the root ter- which meant earth. The stoned looking driver looked at me, making me realize I’d been laughing aloud. I looked into the vanity mirror and started to brush away the dirt off my forehead, revealing a very pale looking skin that was dry. I decided to wait until I got home so that I could get a proper shower.

I tried to remember what had happened right before being buried alive, but it was all foggy. I remember hearing loud noises, but I couldn’t tell a gunshot from the thump of a wooden baseball bat. I looked at my abdomen and found several lacerations that probably needed medical attention, but I didn’t care. I was focused on remembering what happened, I think I must’ve been drugged, because I couldn’t remember anything. Then I remembered Ajax; that son of a bitch must have done this, and he probably was already after my woman. I told the driver to speed up, which he submissively obeyed, probably because he was afraid of me for some reason.

I heard sirens behind us, and this drugged up idiot started to slow down, so I punched him in the head and reminded him that he was on drugs. The police were starting to catch up, and his maneuvering was not good enough, so I decided to unlock the doors and push him out. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, so it was a lot easier than it would seem. As his face hit the pavement hard, I quickly took the wheel and sped off to my home to protect my role as husband. The police were closing in, I weaved though the lanes trying to make them loose me, but it was futile. I noticed a gun in the back seat; it was a beautiful looking Uzi that would be very helpful.

I took the Uzi and started shooting at the back right tire of the pursuing police car, reminding me of why I was in the ground to begin with. I was a part of a mob called The Vicente’s, and I remember Ajax ratting us out on one of our heists. I think I was about to “fire” him but he apparently got the best of me. He must’ve slipped a Mickey Finn into my drink or something then used a knife to tear up my stomach. What he didn’t count on was me not bleeding to death while underground, and the fact that I was strong enough to dig myself out.

When I finally got home, my suspicions were exactly what I had expected. I saw his car, a silver 2005 Malibu, in my driveway and found his Benelli M4 Super 90 in backseat, which I retrieved by smashing the window. I took the gun and went into the house only to find that bastard in bed with my wife, sleeping. I looked at them, and they seemed to be so peaceful right now. I looked into the mirror noticing the blood that was all over my white shirt.

I took the Benelli and shot the picture of him that was hanging on my back wall, where I kept all the pictures of my mob. They were both startled, and my wife began to talk: “Oh my god! It’s you! Ajax told me you died!” Ajax’s face became flustered with red similar to that of a bouquet of Wild Columbine. I took the gun and shoved it into his surprised mouth.

I said, “The dead don’t like to wake up to finish their work.” Then I pulled the trigger and watched as the blood splashed on to my face and the walls. I tried to tell my wife how much I loved her, but the words could not leave my mouth; I was dizzy and confused. I started to see blotches at my arms, and I felt very chilly. My breathing and heart beat accelerated quickly and I started to wheeze heavily and noisily. I was stating to black out, then I heard the loud thump of me hitting the ground. I guess God wanted me to kill that bastard too, but he can't let me say goodbye to my wife? This world is one of sadness.