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[size=7pt][ note ] hi guys; this is my fan fiction based on the show 'supernatural'. please feel free to comment whether you like it or not! thank you!
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[size=7pt]It was dark. Really dark. I knew my eyes were open, but I couldn’t see anything in front of me. But I could taste the air. It was clean, it was fresh … like after a heavy rainstorm. I gasped, and fought to find purchase with my hands as they rubbed against the wooden top. I was trapped in a box; I knew that much. A coffin, from how it tapered by my feet. But why? Why was I here? I couldn’t remember that far back; I knew who I was, but I didn't know why I was here.
I lay back on my back and kicked my feet up, wincing as pain shot through my legs and up my spine. “Six feet under. Literally.” I muttered, as my breath began to come in short gasps. Was it just me, or was the coffin slowly getting smaller? Oxygen was running out. Panic set in my nerves and I knew that I had to calm down before I suffocated. How long had I been in here? Was I always in here? Had I actually ... I stopped the train of thought, and clenched my jaw. I needed to get out, and get out now. I continued to kick and bash my feet against the top of the coffin, letting out a little sob of desperation when the top cracked and dirt began to sift in.
I continued to wear the coffin top down, before it finally cracked enough that the dirt broke through the rest of it down. As the dirt fell into my face and chest, I could feel the clean air from above streamline in. I was going to be okay. Almost instantly the coffin felt like it was stretching out, and I sucked back breath after breath while I figured out my next move. I took my time brushing the dirt off, trying to calm my trembling hands as I started to dig up and out. It was a struggle; I’m not the strongest around, and with six feet of dirt on top of you, packed down thanks to heavy rain, not being strong really does get you.
I finally broke through the last foot of packed down earth, gasping for breath as I dragged myself up and through the dirt. It was late afternoon; there was only about an hour – maybe two – of sunlight yet. Rolling onto my back, I closed my eyes and simply laid there, grateful that I was out, that I was finally in the open. But I had questions. I didn’t remember anything that happened before waking up in the coffin. Rolling onto my side, I winced as I mentally ran through my body; I was hurt in my left shoulder and left elbow. My right wrist was tender, and my calves were burning, and I’m pretty sure my right big toe is broken.
Well. It’s better than being dead.
I rise to my feet, limping slightly, and head in a westerly direction. There had to be something around here. I glanced back at the hole I had crawled out from, and gasped. Dead grass in a perfect circle all around the grave, which was the only one in the area. A single crude cross marked it, and that was when I saw the dog tags. My throat tightened at the sight of them and I rushed back over to the grave to see who they could belong to. They weren’t mine, were they?
I broke the cross and wretched the dog tags from its pieces, staring at them as I rubbed the dirt off them. “My Kitten” read the first one. “Forever Yours” read the second one. Who put these here? Why? More questions swirled through my head and I pushed myself back to standing, and stared at the broken wooden cross and grave. Someone knew someone was in this grave. Maybe not me in particular, but someone had left these tags here for a reason.
But I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going back in a grave anytime soon.
Turning to face the west, I headed off in a quick pace, hoping that somewhere along my travels would be a road. On that road would be some sort of traveller, whether it was a truck driver, or a lost tourist. Hell. I didn’t even know where I was; what state, what country … I could be anywhere.
But anywhere was better than that coffin. I shuddered thinking about the stuffy closed in space, and continued to walk on. I walked for about a mile when I saw signs for camp sites. I frowned, wondering if it would be dark enough to put my five finger discount to use. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I continued towards the campgrounds, wincing as the first few drops of rain began to fall.
Things couldn’t get worse, could it?
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