Sunday, August 15, 2010

Pine Box.

Pine Box.

How do I start? What’s the first thing I say? There’s plenty of time to go over the specifics as I won’t be going anywhere fast. As a matter of fact while lying here in the darkness I’ve had a considerable amount of time to reflect. In hindsight I should be a little shocked. It isn’t everyday that someone finds themselves lying beneath six feet of earth.

Being dragged out of bed by my hair in the middle of the night wasn’t the most frightening thing to happen. Even after I was hog tied and then carried out into the rainy night the fear was still manageable. My dear husband had always been a jealous man given to fits of occasional rage. Threat after threat he had yet to ever cross the line to forcibly punish me. To call me a tramp would be harsh. Friendly might be a better way to call it. I’m far from a cold woman, and talking to strangers comes naturally to me. In all honesty I had never been unfaithful during our marriage, which was more than I could say for him. Every Tuesday night, poker game with the guys was the typical excuse. Sure darling. My wandering theories were comforted knowing that I never had to see it. Tonight’s the night, he finally snapped. Home late. Drunk. Convinced there was another man in the house. Threat finally becomes reality.

Out in the dark old barn at the rear of our property he finally stops to set me down. I shudder with the feeling of uncertainty. There’s a deep welling hole and it’s the large pine box nearby that stirs a thousand goose bumps up my arms and sends my mind spinning. Up, over and in. I knew I was going into the box. The last time he picked a fight, he put me in the wine cellar for a week without food. The idea of a box didn’t quite scare me senseless. It was the clear intention of securing me in the ground that put the fear in my mind. Without much effort he’s got the lid on and the brute is pounding down nail by nail on the lid. Upon completion my world begins to turn and slowly the box descends into the hole.

Buried Alive. “There’s no chance of escape,” my dear old husband advised as he was pushing in the dirt. Through the layer of wood his efforts to quickly move in heavier materials were completely audible. The jealous fool decided that for every foot of dirt, to layer in a foot of stone and gravel between to keep me from escape. Tying me up and sealing the lid of the old pine box just wasn’t enough. Crushing me beneath a mountain of dirt and stone however would satisfy his need to lock me away.

Even through the hours I’ve spent reflecting my mind has yet to come to grips with the situation. Wondering how this standoff will end. Despite the circumstances, he had never followed through with his threats. But slowly the air in my cell is growing thin and this final end seems a bit premature and rather dramatic. Silently I wait in the darkness of this old pine box for any sound that would signal the return of my captor.

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