Since it’s this time of the year again I thought you might like to read something spooky. 😉
When he awoke it was cold. Uncomfortably cold. Awkwardly he tried to open his eyes. A slight resistance on his eyelids, however, prevented him from it. By summoning all the strength of his eye muscles, he succeeded finally. At the same time his ears sensed a gentle impact left and right by his head. As if something had softly fallen on a cushion. Were those coins? Such as, according to ancient tradition, they are laid on the eyes of the dead, so they could pay the ferryman in the underworld, he wondered, irritated and looked
With seeing, however, it was such a thing, because he was surrounded by deepest darkness. Wherever he turned his head, he could see nothing but impenetrable black. Carefully, he lifted his arms, but was immediately met with a soft upholstery that felt silky and under which was something hard. He sensed the same thing, as he stretched his arms behind his back.
A scent potpourri of damp earth, cedar, musty stale air and something indefinable penetrated in his nose and caused him a latent nausea. He looked up and realized only at that moment that he was in a grave. Even worse, in a coffin in a grave.
He felt how panic took possession of him, at the thought that perhaps he had been buried alive. Frantically, he tried unsuccessfully to press upward the wooden resistance. Fear and panic rose inside of him. He struggled desperately for breath as he realized that his chest was neither raised nor lowered.
He was filled with pure horror and he completely lost his temper. Full of helpless rage he tore the light silk blanket to the side, which had previously covered half his body. Like obsessed he struck the wooden lid. Tried to destroy it with force, which he did only with greatest effort, after a felt eternity. When his hands finally broke through the wood, he suddenly felt loosely earth between his fingers. With the courage and the strength of
desperation he shoveled himself out with both hands, so far that he could finally break free from his prison.
Bewildered he looked around. Saw the outlines of fresh graves in the sparsely by the moonlight lit night. He wondered about why his eyes suddenly perceived their surroundings so differently and why he was able to see much clearer and sharper now. Why it was that all of his senses reacted more intensely than ever before to external stimulation.
Awkwardly he rose from the grave and gently patted the damp earth of his crumpled clothes. To his surprise, he felt a growing desire within him. A desire for a very special juice. Horrified he admitted to himself that he was thirsting for human blood. A circumstance for which there could be only one plausible explanation. He had obviously become a vampire. One of those creatures of the night whose existence he had always doubted so far.
He knew that he had no other choice but either to give in to his desire, or to seek his death in the light of the morning, at the beginning of a new day. After a short reflection he chose life and made his way in fast pace toward a lively area in the city of blinding lights.
~ The End ~
© The Storyteller’s Garden