Getting put in the ground was the final nail in the coffin.
I groaned at each turn of the winch, fresh blood pooling along the casket’s base. My killers had bickered back and forth as they dug the grave, more concerned with the depth than my feeble attempts to groan for help. Regrettably, they had a right to be untroubled. Two hundred yards in every direction dull, monotone stone markers advertised the dearly departed. I doubted any of their occupants would be raising a skeletal hand in my defence.
I’d come to visit my father. Each week saw a new set of flowers on the gravestone, a routine that’d been ongoing for months. I would say a few kind hearted words, add the tulip or rose to the pile, and leave all before the sun had risen. Tonight should have been no different.
It only took two raucous burglars, shovels slung over their shoulders, to fuck me over for good.
This deep into the ground, the only light came from the faint glow of the worms squirming through open cracks in the coffin, feeding off the blood leaving my body. Like moths to a flame the tiny little vampires crawled over my chest and arms, honing in on the wounds. Stab wounds to be precise as apparently, unbeknownst to me, every proper burglar likes to carry a serrated dagger in their back pocket. The two disheveled men, barely more than young adults, had taken one long look at me before punching me full of holes.
I can’t say what I was more shocked by: the glint of coin and jewelry overflowing from their pockets or the sharp, electric pain as a long-handled knife found a new home in my chest.
Another arduous turn of the winch and I felt the entire coffin shudder. My killers had gone through the effort of replacing the old occupant with yours truly, closing the lid shut while I attempted to yell myself hoarse. I screamed, I hollered, I shouted to the heavens in a voice tinged with pain and fear. Or rather, I did all of those and more in my head. What came out of my mouth was nothing more than a few rasping coughs and a trail of red, bloody drool. Getting your lungs stabbed was not goods for the vocals.
With an unsteady hand - agonizingly slow - I raised a hand to the lid of my wooden prison. The cool, rough wood refused to budge as I feebly battered against it. I lost count of the strikes a minute later, my only sense of progress a puny dent and bloody splinters.
Another quiver of the coffin. That would be the assholes filling in their sole witness. I could only faintly make out mumbles and abrupt laughs now, each new shovelful of dirt blocking out my last link to the world above. A part of me grew colder when the noises finally came to a standstill. Whether that was from a sad sense of longing or the continuous loss of blood I had no idea. More than likely the latter, judging by the increasing swarm of worms.
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As it turned out, being buried alive gives a man time to think. Looking back on it, confronting those graverobbers probably wasn’t in my best interest; all that I could consider at the moment was that something had to be said, and I was the someone to do it. Father would be proud that’d I grown a pair of balls right before I died at the very least. Mother, well, she’d been out of the picture for years. I hoped she’d just be angry I was so damn filthy.
I glanced at one of the larger pile of worms huddling around my feet. Sure enough they were gorging happily on my blood, crawling over a metal crucifix. Wait, what the hell? I did a double take, making sure the cross wasn’t just some side effect of extreme blood loss. Nope, definitely real. Stretching out with my left foot I dragged the cross within arms reach. To say it was mundane would be doing the cross a disservice. Besides the surprisingly heavy weight I couldn’t detect any engravings or markings. A discarded keepsake of the coffin’s old resident? I guess my killers weren’t particularly religious men.
I moved to clutch the cross to my chest, some shoddy semblance of a prayer running through my mind.
A burst of sound was my reward.
“Jesus fuck!”
Command Line Not Recognized, Please Repeat
“Gr...great, I guess I am losing my mind.” I shivered, acutely aware of just how cold I’d really gotten. “Ah, I wish I’d kicked the bucket somewhere warmer. All this blood...it’s like I’m swimming in my own fluids.”
Confirmation complete. Configuring host to sustain itself without blood
“Have they really not left yet? I’M STILL ALIVE DOWN HERE YOU ASSHOLES!” I shouted as best I could, though once again it barely came out louder than a croak.
“What I wouldn’t give to beat them senseless in this cramped box one last time.” I kicked feebly at the sides of the coffin, the thuds echoing in the confined space. “Could have given me the courtesy of some larger real estate.”
Confirmation complete. Altering host to allow room for expansion. Skill [Augmentation] selected
“Wow, really kind of you to accommodate me! While your at it, why not give me a means to see something colorful for once. It’s depressing as hell down here with no windows.”
Confirmation complete. Altering host for improved perception. Skill [line of sight] selected
“Way to tick all the boxes boys. Good work.” By now all I could make out were faint shadows. That too coalesced into darkness a few moments later, leaving me with nothing but my own labored breathing.
“It’s been a good… twenty four years… Just wish I could have seen… a few more.”