Peregrine opened his eyes. At least, he thought he had. It was beyond dark—pitch black. His mouth was dry, like painfully dry. He was laying on his back, with his arms crossed over his chest. Something was clutched between his hands. It felt like a flower, but it was hard to tell without light.

  “What the hell is going on?” Peregrine asked himself. “Am I dreaming that I’m blind?”

  After he finished the question, an orange glow flickered to life from somewhere near his feet. It grew brighter until it was enough to flood the area with a dim light. Whatever the source for the light was, it couldn’t be seen. He kicked at the area, but there was nothing solid there. All he knew was that it was freaking him out.

  A tulip? He was holding a tulip in his hands. The petals were crunchy like it had been dead for some time. He dropped it to his side, and that’s when he noticed his clothing. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and shorts that he would normally wear to bed. Instead, he was wearing a three-piece black suit, complete with necktie.

  “Did I change clothes? Is someone playing a prank on me?” But he didn’t know anyone that would come over to his apartment and mess with him.

  When Peregrine sat up, his head bonked against something cushiony. He propped himself on his elbows and studied his surroundings. What he saw shocked the life right out of him. He had expected to see his bedroom, but instead saw a padded box not much longer, or wider, than him. His chest pounded as he gasped for breath, claustrophobia setting in. He ran his hands along the padded cloth and felt that it was attached to something solid. A coffin! He knew it was a coffin. The panic attacked immediately. His chest tightened and pulsed with pain and his breathing came in rapid, shallow spurts.

  “The air is running out!” He clawed at his neck, fingernails scratching his skin, and ripping the top button off his shirt and loosening the tie. “I can’t breathe. I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die! Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Oh Shit!” In desperation, he threw a left-handed punch.

  With not enough space to put any power behind the blow, Peregrine hadn’t expected anything to happen. But his fist went straight through the padding and crushed the wood of the coffin. There was something else on the outside, he discovered by wiggling his fingers. He pulled his arm back inside and dirt began spilling in through the fist-sized hole.

  Fight-or-flight took charge and Peregrine lashed out at the coffin, striking it with punch after punch, expanding the damaged area and causing more dirt to flow in. Blood dripped off his cut knuckles, landing on his face as he continued to rip and tear at the wood. Once he created a large enough hole, he got to work digging.

  The dirt gave way just as easily as the wood had, which surprised him but also gave him the drive to keep fighting. He shoved mounds of dry earth to either side of his body, pushing it down toward his feet until he was able to maneuver to his knees and dig above his head. Globs of dirt landed in his mouth, making him gag as he spat it out.

  Why this was happening to him was still unknown, and he was too busy preserving his life to give it much thought. He dug, and dug, for what felt like hours. His fingers ached and his arms kept locking at the elbows, staying stuck in place when he tried to bend them. All the hard work had resulted in a narrow tunnel that he could now stand in. When he did so, he realized that he’d been able to breathe the entire time. How insane was it that he was so preoccupied with not dying, that he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t? He might not die from lack of oxygen, but he might die from exhaustion, because his lungs and muscles were on fire. He leaned against the side of the narrow tunnel to catch his breath and regain some energy. Sweat dripped down his brow and he used the back of his dirt-covered hand to wipe it away.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “There can’t be much more left,” Peregrine huffed. “What’s the standard depth? Six feet?”

  After the quick rest, he went back to work until one last motion was met with zero resistance. He waved his hand and felt cool air drying the sweat from his skin. With one hell of an effort, he jammed his other hand up and, with all his might, pulled himself to the surface, using his elbows as leverage. Once he was halfway out, he crawled across the ground until he was fully unearthed and rolled to his back, sucking in the fresh air. He draped an arm across his head and laughed maniacally, overcome with emotion from the harrowing escape.

  Then the questions circled, the joy fading away. Should he call the police? Was he close to his house? What kind of sick monster had done this to him? Something told him trouble would return if he didn’t find help fast. But when he finally opened his eyes, all he could do was stare, confused by what he saw.

  The sky above was various shades of purple, serving as a backdrop for the electric blue clouds floating below it. Peregrine had never seen such a thing before. Besides the normal, everyday colors, he’d only ever witnessed the occasional green sky from approaching severe weather. This … this was bizarre. It had been threatening to rain earlier. Maybe a monster of a storm was rolling in. When he rose to his feet to try and figure out where he was, his mind threatened to shatter.

  “It’s a fucking graveyard!” he shrieked, voice cracking. He took a couple of steps and collapsed to one knee. “Someone took me and buried me in a graveyard.”

  Normal graveyards were typically well kept with grass mowed short, level headstones, and maybe a nice line of pine trees. This one had none of those things. The grass was long and a neon-green color. It was so vibrant and cool to the touch. The headstones were crooked and chipped, covered in grime and mold. Withered trees jutted out of the ground here and there. It was impossible to tell what time of day it was, or if it was even day at all. The light was noticeably dimmer, but it wasn’t completely dark. It was a sort of perpetual purple twilight.

  A complete nightmare. Peregrine was experiencing what many would consider an absolute horror. Buried alive! Whoever had done this, hadn’t intended for him to escape. But who and why? If he could only figure it out.

  Where’s the sound?

  It was deadly silent. No wind, no leaves rustling, and no roar of nearby vehicles. Past the graveyard, there was nothing except for an endless sea of purples and blues. It was like this place existed in its own universe, separated from the rest of the world—and it was unnerving.

  He decided he was going to find the police, which was the most logical and safest choice. The hard part was that his cellphone was nowhere to be found. He patted all his pockets, but he surely wasn’t climbing back in the coffin to check in there because he didn’t think he’d be lucky enough to survive the tight space twice. This was attempted murder, and the gravity of that was falling hard on him. Whoever did this knew where he lived and they could easily take him again. And since they failed the first time, they might just outright kill him the next. His apartment was no longer safe. Maybe he’d be forced to live in a witness protection program, or something.

  With urgency, he took off running, hoping to find an exit from this bizarro place. Then, the hair on his head raised, and his body tingled like a surge of electricity had zapped him. The sensation made him slow to a walk, before coming to a complete stop. Something was behind him. He turned and backpedaled until he lost his balance and fell. But that didn’t hinder his motion as he continued to scramble away as fast as his feet and elbows could take him. However, the “something” was floating toward him faster than he could get away and he knew fleeing was useless.

  “W-who are you?” Peregrine choked out.