Pitch black. Darkness enshrouded upon a lifeless form, and no room to move within it. Cold, damp, chilling to the bone. And suddenly, a woman's scream.
She awoke in this tiny space, and frantically slapped and kicked, thrashing about like a madman, for she knew where she was.
Buried alive.
"HELP!"she cried out, with her vocal cords being stretched to their limits.
"HELP ME!"She screamed even louder now.
"I'M IN HEEEERE!"With this final cry, she burst into tears. No one could hear her. She was trapped. She was dead. She was in hell.
The coffin gave enough room for her to crawl into a fetal position, despite its small confines. Her tears flowed forth, as she thought of her predicament. No one knew she was here. She didn't know where she was, other than trapped within something no one is ever supposed to see. This only grew worse when she realized that she didn't even know who she was.
She was going to die, and she nothing of her life. She may as well have been dead already. She held herself tighter now, and she noticed the feeling of make-up running down her face.
She knew nothing. Not her name, not her own face. All she knew was the cold dark abyss, and it was all she would ever know.
At this thought, something changed within her.
The tears still running down her face, she softly proclaimed, "No...”
Winding her arm back as far as she could, she let loose with full force, her fear of dying without even knowing herself, her frustration at being incarcerated within this tiny tomb, and the part of her soul which hated with a fiery passion whomever had placed her there.
With the sound of splintering wood and the thuds of dislodged rock and earth, she was free. Tentatively, she raised a hand outside of her crypt, and felt the cold wet earth.
It was then, that for the first time ever, she saw the light of the stars.
The brilliant, shining, endless beauty of the sea of stars. So far away, so distant, but they made her feel as though she was home.
Somehow, they compelled her to rise from the grave that had held her future in its oak grasp. She tried to stand, and with strong will and a little luck she rose without incident.
It was then she felt the need to turn, and in doing so, she saw the most important thing she could ever have seen: her name. The tombstone had been damaged and exposed to the elements for too long, but she could still read it.
"Angel...... Angelica.... McGuire...... Angelica McGuire........."
It sounded old, the name a grandmother might have had. But somehow, somehow, it fit. Angelica turned from the stone, looking into the dark night, and left her own grave behind her.
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