horror | realdale

I found myself walking in a crowd of people. Everything seems to be solemn, sober. Hushed voices were around. Heads are bowed down. Some are wearing a cloth to cover their faces. No, those were not just a mere fabric, those were the kind where you can still see their faces though. There was that aura. Something I cannot directly pin point.

I slowly inched my way along the aisle. Then I noticed something. Everything was black and white. I wonder if it was just my eyes that’s damaged but no. I see yellow lights. And, are those …candles? There might be a brownout. But there is electricity! I see some light bulbs. A lot of light bulbs, really. Many of them are on the elevated platform in front. There are flowers too. I wonder what are those for.

The next moment I found myself looking down a box. A six feet long two feet wide box made of the finest wood I’ve seen. I know for sure that was no ordinary box. It was painted with cream white paint and varnished to shine. Its corners were intricately curved making it look more elegant and pleasing. And, the cover isn’t just plain. It’s a double door cover, like the ones you see in a refrigerator: one for the freezer and another one for the body. I wonder if it has all those compartments inside. It was a box so precious. But, why is everybody crying while touching this box. What’s wrong with it? It’s perfect! It’s a…

Then it dawned on me. To be sure, I opened the upper cover of the box. The smaller one located just to my left. I slowly peeked my head to look what’s inside. Bingo! My guess was right. A person was inside. A young man actually. He seem to be sleeping comfortable. Thick black eyebrows resting peacefully above his closed eyes. His eyelashes forming a slight curve just in the middle of his purple eyelids. His forehead, though tainted with stress, where exceptionally calmed by the concave curve of his lips. His cheeks though not that smooth with those tiny freckles and pimples were admirable and looked happy.

Beside his head lay some of his precious belongings. An eyeglass with a rectangular frame, a phone, a ring, a rubix cube, and a name plate. Engraved on the plate were a logo of a lady holding a shining lamp trapped in an oblong. Beside the logo, was a name. It sounds very familiar. As if I’ve already knew that name before. I know this name. It’s mine!

I found myself staring into a glass above me, blinded by immense amount of light. I see faces of my sister. Is she crying? It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her cry. I can’t remember when, but I think the last time I saw her cry was when we were still kids. Beside her is my mother. Oh, that face I longed to be with. My mother, sobbing and hugging the box. To her right, is my father who seems to be unusually sad. The strict and stern look in his face is gone. Replaced with the mourn and grief.

Then, darkness. The cover was closed. Screams of agony and crying are muffled. I hear sobs. The box I’m in seemed to be moving. After an hour, it stopped. Then, dead silence. Just nothing. The cries are gone. The box wasn’t even moving an inch. It was peace. But I was not. I hungered for breath. I tried to push the lid and open the cover. It did’nt budge a bit. I tried harder. No, my efforts are useless. I’m trapped here. I screamed for help. I screamed on top of my lungs. AhhhhhhhhH!

Then I heard my phone rang. That very familiar ringtone. An alarm. It’s 5:30 in the morning. I got up. Looked around. Turned the lights on. I got up from bed, drank water and sat beside my bed. My palms on my face, elbows on my thighs, leanind forward. I breathed deeply. What a relief.