Soil: I

Vansh Sharma

by Vansh Sharma

Story

The last thing I remember is searing pain rippling through my whole body. After the pain came darkness, and in the dark, I opened my eyes again. Although I couldn’t see anything before me, I sensed I was confined in a small space, barely big enough for me. Slowly, the rest of my body was waking up, and I quickly realized I was lying on a hard rock. Next was the pressure. A nearly unbearable amount of weight pushed down on me, slowly squeezing the air out of my lungs.

Throughout all this, as I became increasingly aware of myself and my surroundings, a faint part of me recognized that I should be panicking right now. Somehow, the panic never set in. It was as if something was numbing my feelings, dampening my fear.

I lifted a tired arm, trying to feel what was crushing me. It was soil, and then things started making sense. Something had happened to me – something bad. Bad enough that I had to die. That’s what happens in Naash. When you’re not careful and a bad thing happens, death comes swiftly for you.

That still didn’t explain why I was buried like this. Cremation was what it should have been, and even if exceptions had to be made, the bodies were always buried in coffins of thick wood and further coated by iron to keep the spirit locked inside. So why was I locked away in loose, damp soil?

I knew my husband must have some answers. I remembered seeing him right before the pain started. I needed to get to him. I needed to see him and ask him. As the town priest, he was the only one that could help me.

It took hours of hard work before I saw daylight again. Almost all my nails had broken off as I dug myself out of the coarse soil, and the remaining few were black from the effort. I couldn’t see my face, but I was sure it was just as dirty as my hands were bruised. Being trapped in the hole had made my body stiff, and that only complicated things further. In my endeavors, I swallowed an ungodly amount of the soil that fell on my face. My throat was dry and scratchy, and despite all my troubles, I couldn’t feel a shred of concern.

Once on my feet, I drew a deep breath in as I scanned my surroundings. It was clear where I was – The Forest. No other place was like this. Nowhere else could be so full of life and yet so hauntingly quiet.

Indifferent to everything else, I started on my path. The night was in full bloom by the time I got home. I had seen things in the way no living being ever should. At last, I stood before the main door. I knocked twice like I always had, and looked down, only my feet and the door in my eyeline. I was careful not to look my husband in the eyes. It would have been far too disrespectful, far too enraging for him.

I noticed how disgusting my feet looked. I had failed to notice it then, but I wore no footwear. Walking in the forest and through the city had left them swollen and caked in the half-wet soil of the hole I crawled out of. Countless cuts decorated my soles. While I was lost in thought, wondering what had happened to me, the door swung open, and my husband’s sandals came into view. I was finally home.

© Vansh Sharma 2023-08-31

Genres
Suspense & Horror
Moods
Dunkel, Mysteriös, Dark