I wasn't picky. I only wanted this:
1) One of my favorite radio shows is 'Suspense' and one of my favorite episodes from that is when a man who is cataleptic almost gets autopsied. I think that could lead somewhere.
2) Being buried alive is my worst fear.
3) You could end with the word: insanity
4) Because one of my favorite actors is Bogart, you could have a character named Humphrey.
And look at the brilliance he came up with...
by C. N. Nevets© 2010
“Humphrey. Humphrey.” All I could do was mumble my own name to reassure myself that I was still alive.
I couldn’t see myself within the blackness of the heavy bag that wreaked of death.
I couldn’t any move of the muscles of my body. They’d drugged me. Must have.
Drugged me before stuffing me into a body bag. Drugged me with something that had knocked me out. Drugged me with something that had left me essentially paralyzed.
The bag was tight and close. I could feel my own breath reflected back on my face. When I mumbled, “Humphrey,” the sound came back hollow but near.
There was a slick ooze spreading across my back, which was pressed naked against the bag.
Something soft and spongy tickled the soles of my feet.
But I could not move to escape. I could not rip at the bag. I could not pry at the zipper whose cold metal underside lay atop my face, and down my nose.
“Humphrey.” It was becoming more of a dry whisper. I could hardly hear it, but it still reassured me to say it. It was if I were asserting that I was a person, not a dead body.
Perhaps assuring myself as much as the world.
For I realized I could no longer tell if my eyes were open or closed. I couldn’t feel my heart beating in my chest. Could barely feel my breath, reflecting back on my face.
I began to feel light-head, as if I were dropping from a considerable height, but my other senses told me that I was not moving.
How I longed to claw at the top of the bag that lay on me like an iron shroud.
To kick at the foot of the sack that bound me up on another man’s path to the grave.
No words. No Humphrey. Not enough breath. Just enough – just enough breath to live.
If only I could die.
Or at least escape into insanity.