Phase 1

Pain.  Agonizing pain is what lights inside me. Every muscle is tight, so much that I’m afraid they’ll snap. My nails are clawing through a wall of dirt that is above me. It feels as though I’m about five feet under. How I get that number, I don’t know.

I’ve been at this for what feels like forever. No rest, no relief. I’m afraid that if I stop, my body will give up and I’ll become mad. So I don’t stop. There’s a violent pounding in my head that makes me dizzy. Oh, and the hunger I feel. I don’t know what I desire, but I know that I will devour it once I get what I want. I cry out as another bolt of pain rips through me.

What is going on? Why am I digging myself out of what looks like, a grave? Was I dead? Questions such as these run around my head, adding to the monstrous headache I have. If I was dead, how am I able to move, think cohesively? Am I a zombie?

I giggle at that thought. Me, a zombie? My deranged giggles turn into loud, bellowing laughter. Then I stop.

Who was I? Was I apart of some society that took care of trouble makers by burying them? Was I a wife? A mother?  I take a quick glance to my stomach. The clothes that I wear are old and thin and have a few tears in them. They are very nice clothes and I like the style. I wiggle enough that makes the shirt ride up a bit. No stretch marks. A part of me is saddened, having hoped that I had once been loved.

Wait, why do I say that? Was that sad thought a piece of the person I was? I dig through my thoughts, as I tunnel through the dirt. Nothing that seems to be a part of someone’s being stands out. Inwardly, I sigh. This whole thing is insane. What will happen when I break through the dirt?

Will my body burn? Will I turn to ashes? All sorts of stories I don’t remember being told rush though my head, reminding me of hags and witches and ghouls. Oh, God, what is going on? How am I down here? 

Who the hell am I?

The word hell pops into my head unexpectantly. Is that where I am? Is my punishment to dig forever out of a grave that I’ll never leave? Is it the crushing weight of loneliness?  Is it not knowing who I am?

Oh, I’m back to the endless questions.

This really is bad.

My arms and fingers burn from scratching and clawing for so long. I feel something warm coming down on my face. I reach for it with my tongue, and jump when I realize it is blood. Well, that rules out the whole zombie thing…Right? I turn that thought away and claw harder at the earth wall.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. Dig, dig, dig. That’s the endless chant I have in my head.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  This is what keeps me going for the last few digs.

Then a blinding, white-hot light spills through making me scream so loud that I fear I damaged my vocal cords. But the light hurts so much and I want it to stop. Otherwise, I’m having brief thoughts of suicide. And they sound so good right now. Just as I think that I’m about to die, the light starts getting smaller. And smaller. It is soon gone and I’m no longer in pain.

Instinctively, my mind makes the decision to get out of this coffin as fast as I can. I thrash and wiggle out of the tiny hole I created, failing at trying not to look up into what might’ve hurt me. My eyes are shut tight as my stiff legs push forward through dirt and grass. It’s not until I’ve been running a full minute when I stop and open my eyes.

What surprises me is that it is dark. I look up into the sky to see an outline of white light. It’s an eclipse of the moon. The light that escapes from the shadow of Earth hurts my eyes and I have to shield them. I stare at the phenomenon above me when the moonbeam becomes bigger and brighter.

 Just as the light hits me, I scream and run for cover. The closest place that offers me safety is a tree a hundred yards away. The moonlight is starting to spread more. Soon, it’ll be too much. What will happen if I get caught too long? I start sprinting toward the tree, making my legs move far much more than they want to. They start burning like a fire even before I’m a quarter of a way there. But I can’t stop. The light is almost all out of the shadow. I push ahead, pumping my arms. I’m almost there when the light gets me. I stagger in my stride and am about to pass out when I take a final leap and somehow make it under the tree.

The burning stops instantly. I examine myself under the tree. The only sign of my struggle is a slight red hue to my skin, but luckily that’s it.

I look out past my guardian tree to see what light I was running from. For some reason, I thought I was running from the sun, but no, I fell victim to another celestial being: Luna.

Am I mad? Could anyone have this happen to anyone? Am I insane?  If anything else, I’m damned. The latter seems to be the most likely choice. I hesitantly step forward to the brim of shadow the tree offers. Just a few feet away is the dreaded white light. I lift my hand up and stretch toward it. I’m not even to the end of my pointer finger when I yelp and pull my hand back.

Cradling my hand, I stand in front of the tree and examine my surroundings. I am in a cemetery, which doesn’t surprise me after waking up in a coffin. There are many headstones, which all look as if they’ve seen a few storms. There are high fences guarding the entire area. They block the view of anything outside this place. There are many trees here, yet I was unfortunate enough to be in the only spot where trees were minimal. I scan the ground for any rough-looking graves and spot my own little hole in the ground.

I can’t read out the engraving on the tombstone so I move closer by staying to the shadows of the trees. I slow as I start reaching the edge of the shade, apprehensive about seeing what name the stone reads. I close my eyes before I’m able to make it out and move a bit closer to it. I stop.

I slowly open my eyes and read the engraving:

Emily Garo

Loving Sister

Wonderful Daughter

January 16, 1856- August 14, 1875

My name is Emily. Or at least, I’m assuming I’m Emily. I am (was) nineteen. I am a sister to someone. I have parents. Although I don’t know if this is actually who I am, I am glad I can call myself something.

Emily. I like how it feels. I stand under the shadows until a cloud covers the moon, and I go to examine my plot. The dirt around it is hard packed and is growing with grass. I was not buried recently.

Around the site are tombstones that share the same wear that mine has. Some of them even share my own name: Luke Garo. Was he my father? Or was he a brother? Maybe a close uncle?

Another close stone reads Heather Garo. Maybe I had a sister? Did we stay up nights to whisper stories and jokes in each other’s ears?

I need to stop asking questions because I’m getting nowhere.

I look up into the sky. The moon is still hidden by the clouds, but the outline of it gets closer to the edge of clouds every second. I retreat to the trees.

I must find a way to escape this vast place of fences and moonlight.

And my grave.

I see a gate that is all the way at the other end of this prison. Weaving my way through trees and clouded spots, I reach the gate. Through the bars I see nothing but black. I have no idea where I am.

I reach for the lock and pull.

The gate opens towards me with the loudest, longest, creepiest creak I’ve never heard. I take a deep breath, hitch up my skirts and march forward.