My Day

Waking up everyday you push your family aside to provide a wonderful life for them. You live and breath work...until things turn dark and I wake up in a coffin.

My Day

 

Just living life day to day you forget how precious it is and that it is only a temporary gift. I start my day off waking up at 6 am every morning. I get dressed for work then before leaving my house I grab the most important thing, a cup of coffee. My day is filled with business meetings and numerous phone calls. My work day ends when I arrive at home about 8 pm and have dinner with my wife and kids. I have my first conversation of the day with them at dinner time. By 9:30 pm the kids are in bed and I enjoy some quiet time with my wife. My day ends around 10:30 pm when I go to bed. I always thought working hard at work to be able to provide for my family was top priority. Your point of view changes when you realize that working and money isn’t going to follow you in the grave but the memories of your family.

I gradually become conscience but I am not sure where I am. My eyelids are closed and feel as if they are glued shut. I don’t see a hint of light behind my lids. Its dark where I am. I can tell I am laying down; pressed up against my back is a cold wooden slate. I know I am not dead because I can feel my body and I am thinking clearly. I squint my eyes to try and pry them open with out using my hands. My eyeballs are dry, I blink to moisten them but it doesn’t help much. I am surrounded in darkness. I give my eyes time to adjust to the darkness. Wood, nothing but wood surrounds me. I press the palm of my hand against the flat wooden lid above me. I’m laying in a coffin.

I rummage through my memories to figure out what lead me to end up in a coffin. I cant recall a single memory of how I got here. Normally confined in such a tight place I would panic but I am relaxed. I can almost taste the moist dirt surrounding the coffin. It brings peace to me. A building pain explodes inside of my stomach and I jerk upward smashing my forehead through the coffin lid. The pain ceases and I lay back down. Wow, how did my head make that hole. I wipe my forehead removing what appears to be crimson curdled blood. Its Curdled like milk months past its expiration date. I don’t know how but, my head doesn’t hurt from hitting the coffin lid. This time I press both of the palms of my hands up against the lid to the coffin. I test the weight above me by lightly pressing upward. The lid nudges easily. I put all my pressure and body weight behind my arms as I push everything I got at the lid. The coffin lid along with dirt is flung off to the side raining dirt and wood pieces. Staring upward I see the stars. It is midnight, I am sure but I don’t know how I am so certain of it.

A figure appears in my view staring down at me while I lay in my grave. I make my way out of the coffin towards the figure and surface my way to ground level. My eyes meet a woman with cool amber eyes. I know her but I never met her before. I ask her “Do you know why I was in there?” In a brusque tone the woman states “You need to eat. Follow me or you will die.” Eat. Die. What is this crazy lady talking about. The explosive pain hits my stomach again I crumple to the damp cool grass. The pain holds onto my stomach longer this time, I grit my teeth to hold back from screaming. After the pain subsides I stand back up and follow the woman to her car. The car stops and I open the door and step out assuming were at our destination. I’m standing in front of my home. The woman actually brought me home. I guess I’ll just have dinner with my family.

I walk into my home and smell a beautiful luring aroma. I follow the mouth watering smell into the dining room. The table is empty. Where is all the food. What is that delicious taste that I am craving. Sitting at the table is my six year old daughter, Elizbeth. Head laying upon the table and her face turned away from me. Her head is resting on top of a small pool of water. Elizabeth is crying. She lifts her head up and looks in my direction. Stunned and helpless she doesn’t move. I begin to call her name, “Eliz…” when my stomach is overcome with another explosion. A pounding beat is penetrating into my head. My teeth ache. My body crumples to the floor again and I roll into a ball. I watch as Elizabeth walks towards me. She whispers “Daddy, your not real. You died.”

I crawl towards Elizabeth. This time the agonizing pain doesn’t stop it just gets worse each second that passes. The closer I get to Elizabeth I realize she is what smells delicious. Elizabeth walks to me and sits down beside me and crosses her legs. She hesitates in touching me. I see the uncertainty in my little girls eyes. She wraps her arms around me. The throbbing pain that has overcome me is unbearable. The smell is delightful; I can taste the air, but it is not enough to only taste air. She lays her head against my chest exposing her neck to me. I love her but I have to do this. I don’t know why but the need is too strong. I lean down to kiss her forehead instead I find my lips pressed against her ageless neck. Without hesitation I plunge my teeth into her skin. I devour every tiny drop of precious blood that is in her tiny body. The thumping in my head cease, it stops along with last heartbeat. Her body is limp. I stand up and walk out of my home with the taste of my daughter’s blood on my tongue.

Afterward I followed the woman I first saw at my grave back to her home. I stayed locked up in my room. Contemplating how I could have avoided this life. I never once chose my family over work. Now not only is my youngest daughter dead but it was because I killed her. The guilt was unbearable. I know I must kill now in order to live, but nothing will ever match that first kill. Nothing will ever replace my family. I thought they would always be there for me to come home to. I assumed I would always be able to go home to them. I was content with only having dinner with them. Now I see it was no where near being enough. The money I worked hard for is useless to me. I don’t care for it because I don’t need it to eat. Now I sit in my room everyday replaying the memories of my family that I miss and will no longer see. If only I treated life for what it was, a precious gift.

Author's Note

Let me know what you all think between the actual story line and grammar issues I would like to know what to improve on. Thank You. If you review my story I will return the favor.