The first surge of regret came almost instantly.
My insides began to writhe and contort with an overwhelming anxiety that matched the unconscious movement of the trees in the dark wood above. Centuries of evolution and growth compelled them to reach out to one another in a desperate bid to feel less alone, yet their deep roots only allowed the creation of a rotting arbour over my newly erected grave. Wiggling my ring finger slightly, the circulation was momentarily suffocated by a circle of string measured exactly to my flesh. Limbs pressed against cheap wood, eyes gazing at nothing, the descent into the abyss was gradual. Repeating this action incrementally became a form of anchor, matching breaths to the clutch and release of pain.
Eventually, the oak finds its place on the earth’s floor, shifting gently on uneven ground. Above, the nervous chatter of my guests mingles with the wind slipping through gaps in the hinges, creating a distorted, ghostly wail. Unbeknownst to my anticipation, the ceremony begins with a piano tune warbling through the speakers, making the box around me quiver. The first heap of soil scrapes against the top like a knife on a plate. Despite the suffocating darkness, I can feel the coffin's lid inching closer, almost feeling the material against the tip of my nose. It’s not long before the first splinter flies off, piercing my ribs. A soft crackle of a hairline fracture slowly winds its way around the circumference of the box, creating a web of spreading on the interior, destroying its foundations.
Releasing my finger all the way, I wait for the reassuring sound of the bell to make this all go away. Instead, it comes away from its anchor, the taught line now slack and untethered. My nose is suddenly cold from the dampness of the soil, and the limited air treacle in my lungs. I try to scream before the next shovel’s contents become lodged in my oesophagus. In front of me protrudes a tiny thread of light, I focus on it, waiting for the soil to overtake my organs.
Why didn’t I pick cremation?
Elodie is a non binary, Neurodivergent writer in the early stages of their writing career. Focusing on speculative fiction and spooky poetry, Elodie enjoys writing about things people would rather not think about