The human memory can be a beguiling thing. Like when someone dies. Everyone magically forgets that Aunt Linda in the casket there was a raging alcoholic that verbally abused anyone who was unfortunate enough to brush up against her.
But sure, let's shower the dead woman with flowers.
The clearest parts of my memory from that night are like stills from a movie. I can see the giant snowflakes wafting heavily to the ground, frame by frame, happily rushing towards their final resting place.
"Take me, Earth, I'm yours," they sighed.
I remember the boughs of the pines that lined the street slumping under all that snow. They looked as exhausted as I was.
I can see with perfect clarity the red and blue disco the ambulance lights played on the ice-covered driveway, smell the cold.
I remember answering questions that weren't meant for me.
"Can you hear me? What's your birthdate? Is this your daughter?"
I know exactly what I was wearing. It was a lacy black tunic with a red satin bow that tied in the front. It was the only thing I felt pretty in. I was eight months along by then.
"You look like a fat slut. Just like your mother."
I don't remember her falling, but I can hear the dull thud as her head struck the fifth stair on the way down.
I never did figure out what I was doing up there.
Drunks fall all the time, my memory whispered, helpfully.
She fell.
About the Creator
Annie B.
Gratitude is my religion. Thanks for being here.
Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storm3 days ago in Fiction
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