And As She Opens Her Eyes...

It was my funeral, of that I am sure, because I was the one in the coffin.

There were rows upon rows of benches, the kinds you find in parks, not churches. They were not all full but more than half were, the back rows were empty except for a few people that felt they shouldn’t have been there or didn’t want to be seen.

My immediate family were in front, a different look on each face; Longing, indifference, curiosity, boredom, envy and anger. Behind them were rows of the rest of my family, more cousins than uncles and aunts. The benches to the sides held my friends, long lost and people I had seen only last week.

For them having to see me like this, I am sorry. I never wanted to be buried. I never wanted an open casket. What I wanted was to be burned, cremated, put into a box and placed under a white tree next to her tree, and for her to carve out names onto the trees. Our trees.

I suspect she was pissed. She would have fought with them. Tried to tell them my song preferences. Where and how I wanted to be laid to rest. I suspect she brought forth our letters as proof, my silly handwriting scrawled between the lines, claiming my wishes and commenting on hers.

She lost. She must have.


It was her face I searched for. Her face I felt. She came up to me, placed lilies and her last letter on my chest and left a kiss on my cheek. I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt her, she is the last person I would ever hurt and even then, not intentionally.

I choked. I gasped, coughed and choked again. My back arched as my lungs tried desperately to take the energy my heart was giving them, to fill with the needed air. The air that had been missing since the day they found me in that river. My legs kick, my back arches further, picking up off the oddly comfortable casket floor.

I hear nothing, see nothing, and taste chemicals. Another attempted breath. It’s like being smothered in reverse. There is a huge weight on my chest, making it agonising to move, to think. The weight gets lighter but still pushes ever downwards. It all hurts, everything, my heart most.

And then my chest gives. The air is filling all spaces inside me, from my god given mouth to my toes somewhere in the bottom of the casket. My brain is dull, sluggish and my ears are ringing. With my eyes closed, I feel something holding my knees down and something pressing into the bottom of my ribs. Something starts to run down my face in dull throbs.

The first thing I hear is screaming. It’s a horrible sound; painful. I take another breath and the screaming stops for a brief moment, only to start up again. It’s me. I’m screaming. I open my eyes, wince at the sudden light and hastily close them again. I’m still screaming, the wetness of my face is due to me crying. I’m crying through the blindness, through the deafening screaming.

I open my eyes again, blinking rapidly to keep my eyes moist. The tears help. There is one figure to the side of my vision. I can’t look. And I’m out of breath.
“Breathe damn it! Breathe!” I yell at myself.
The shout rings through my head as I remember how to inhale. The screaming melts into violent sobs.

There are arms around me and below me.




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Sitting in English Writing at the moment.. this is my current story in progress, im hoping to put a few different peoples points of views in there, told from different point of views.

Any comments? Advice?