I told my parents that when I grew older, I would have a chance at anything.

And for some reason, I didn’t.

My eyes shot open, my ears listening wearily for any source of sound.

Nothing.

I’d been running for almost two weeks now.

From what?

I don’t know.

But it felt like I needed to.

That if I didn’t stay still, they’d get me.

Now, my eyes couldn’t spot any light hardly, just a small gole barely peeking from the top.

Top of.. something.

My hands lifted, feeling for whatever it was I was inside.

I went to sit up and honked my head against it.

I let out a yelp before rubbing my head as I laid.

It felt hard, which obviously I assumed it was. I pushed up, and the kid to it opened slightly, something filling the inside of the box.

I slammed it back shut, terrified.

My hands picked up whatever had entered, but it fell straight through my fingers.

I squinted, trying to figure out what it was with no light to work with hardly.

It came off as hard, yet somehow soft.

I kept squishing until I felt movement, nothing much, just a small wriggling sensation in my hand.

I dug until I found the movement running my fingers along it to ensure what it was.

Short, yet in a straight line.

I felt for a head to make sure it wasn’t a snake, and thank god it wasn’t.

A worm I think…

So that mean it was dirt.

And I was in something hard, unable to stumble out of the horrid thing without staying lied down.

Wait…

A coffin?

But I wasn’t dead.

Yet.

To be continued??