The Coffin

A man wakes up and finds himself in an odd place

***note this is not the full story*** tell me if you like I first and I will post the rest

The first thing he heard was the laughter. He felt the vibrations echoing through his body more than he heard the actual laughter. He tried to open his eyes but they were glued shut. He wasn't on a plane to New York anymore. Not anymore. He tried to move his legs but failed. His body was covered in an oozing stickily liquid that felt like saliva. He was naked and felt little.

Help! he thought. “Help!” he tried to scream but his mouth wouldn't open

Stop. Stay calm and listen. He listened.

He listened to the sound of swing music and laughter. The laughter was the worst part. At first it sounded joyful, almost natural then it transformed into something inhuman, something cruel.

I'm dead, he thought, Dead and stuffed in a dark wet coffin. The final sentence reverberated in his mind until it was a mantra.

Dead and stuffed in a dark wet coffin. Dead and stuffed in a dark wet coffin. Dead and stuffed in a...

“Hullo,” a booming voice vibrated from outside the coffin. The echo of the voice was too loud for him to hear the reply. I know that voice, he thought, Father?

“Well,” the booming voice said once again, “he was a pain in the butt anyways.”

No. It can't be my father, he thought, it's just paranoia.

His father? He hadn't seen his father in years. He cursed in his head. I never even called for Christmas. I know he never forgave me for the incendent but still...couldn't I have tried to change that? God damn me!

More laughter. He hated it. He hated the laughter. An image came to him in a red haze. A dinner party with all of his friends and relatives he had treated like dirt. In the middle of the room was a coffin,and they were drinking and laughing, talking about how it was so great to get rid of him. They took all of his money and possessions, even his clothes and like some final joke spat on him before they locked the coffin. Good riddance.

Prehaps I deserve it, he thought and he did.

It was a very confused vision,but he was very confused at the time. He felt his coffin being moved slowly lurching back and forth.

“Where are you taking me” he wanted to yell, but he couldn't. He was stopped and slowly lowered.

“Come on. Have a glass of beer,” a voice said.

“No,” a high-pitched child voice answered giggling before after and throughout his one syllable reply.

“Just a little,” that voice crackled again. His brother Andre had a crackling voice like that. A voice which annoyed the man in the coffin to the point of causing him to hit Andre that cold December night long ago.

“Mom?” the Kid asked, “Can I?”

“Sure dear, just a little.

The sound of pouring liquid...

The man in the coffin strained to hear The Kid gulping the beverage and then spiting it out.

“Ugh,” the Kid said.

The man chuckled.

“I don't like it,” the Kid added.

He hated the Kid. The Kid was as annoying as every other kid he had meet in his life. The man in the coffin could sense the small but growing roots of a cocky mentality just by listening to his voice.  

“Trust me, in a couple of years you'll love it,” the Crackling-Voiced-Man said again. He hated him too. He was too much like Andre.

Please,please,please! he thought, Move me away from here. As if the coffin carriers could hear his thoughts, he was moved and almost dropped (“Oh! Are you okay?” “Yes I'm fine.”) and then he was stopped once again.

“Hey kiddo!” another voice said. He didn't hate this voice,in fact it brought back fond memories of ...what? He had no clue what memories it brought back.

God, I'm losing my memories. Probably for the better.

“Hey Uncle Ale.”

It was the Kid again. The goddamn thing was following the coffin.

“Hay?”Uncle Ale asked,“I don't see any hay,” the Kid giggled again. “You have to say Ay!”

“I don't see any A's” the kid said giggling at his cleverness between every second word. If he wasn't stuck in a coffin (Dead and stuffed in a dark wet coffin) he would have strangled the kid right there.

Wherever “there” was.

“You don't?” Uncle Ale asked in his high-pitched Clowning-Around-With-Kids-Voice, “Your the big A, Andre.

Andre? Andre! I'm felling more and more like the scrooge every second.

The Kid giggled.

Let me out of here he started kicking at the sides of his confinement. It just rose up more laughter. He continued to kick and punch until he was too tried to do so. The laughing. He heard the Kids giggles, that man who reminded him of Andre crackle, that booming voice “Ho! Ho! Ho!” He felt as if he was going to go mad.

Reviews

[Schyala]

Great beginning, I really liked the plot. The only critic I would give you is to clear up what's going on inside the coffin, and whats going on outside the coffin. But otherwise I really liked it :)