Buried: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes #4

This week, Ronovan challenged us to write a piece of flash fiction (maximum 500 words).

Buried

The first thing I noticed was the smell. I’m not sure what that says about me, considering my senses were on full alert, and when I say that, I mean I was completely freaking out. Perhaps it was the total absence of light. I had no choice but to absorb the sounds, the smells, the feel of being trapped in the dark.

When I recovered from the god-awful smell; a putrid, downright beastly aroma that might have erupted from the depths of the underworld, it registered I could barely move. Of course, then I was reminded of the fact I was in a coffin, and the air froze in my lungs. Pure, unadulterated panic.

Something slithered across my hand, and my breath came out on a whoosh. It wasn’t relief, it was more like, ‘oh my god, somebody please tell me that’s not a snake.’ And of course, it had to be. I’d stupidly made it clear I had a phobia of all things reptilian.

It took effort, but I didn’t scream. I let the thing slither a path up and around my arm and over my stomach. All the while I concentrated on the sound of voices in my head; the wise, calming voices of my friends. A few minutes later I was home free. There was a draft of air to my left, followed by a burst of natural light, and the snake was gone.

After that, my coffin mates were relatively easy to endure. I didn’t even mind the bugs, not even when they got up close and personal; crawling over every inch of my body and making me squirm in the confines of my box.

“Oh my god, guys. They’re in my pants,” I semi-screamed. I was trying not to open my mouth.

I heard deep laughter through my earpiece. “Where have we heard that before?”

“It’s the honest to god truth. They’re frisky little buggers.”

More laughter and then, thankfully, Johnny said. “Okay, times up. Let’s get her out.”

Strangely, the urge to move was stronger than ever. I had to tamp down on my fevered desire to shove up my hands and burst through the modified glass box. I didn’t do that. This was my punishment and I had no choice but to take it, especially since the show was my brainchild.

Not an original concept, more like pranking 2.0. Let’s put it this way – my forfeit could have been a hell of a lot worse. Luckily, a certain show had just finished airing, thus influencing my friends’ decision. I’m sure you can guess the show, but I’ll give you a hint; it involves celebrities and a jungle.

I’d endured my ten minutes, which felt pretty good. Still, I all but jumped out when the crew lifted the lid and, I’m not embarrassed to say, I bent to kiss the ground.

“Enjoy your freedom, Curly,” Johnny said, bending to brush a few cockroaches from my collar. “Because that was part one.”

“Oh shit.”

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Hopefully, you found that fun – even if there was a groan or two! My daughter is obsessed with I’m a Celebrity and, since I enjoy spending time with her, we sit down at the end of our day and watch the goings on in the jungle. We’re also both a fan of Impractical Jokers, even though the show makes us cringe, we’re glued to the screen – go figure! It was Grace’s idea to write something jungle related, so I went with it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Mel