Put To Rest
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Great Harvest Scary Story Entry - Yule finds himself trapped six feet under
Yule had long since screamed his voice raw. The tyto’s talons were torn and bloodied from where he had tried to claw at the coffin lid. It was becoming harder and harder to keep himself from hyperventilating. How much air did he have left? The pounding of dirt on the lid above him had stopped a while ago. It already felt like he had been down here for hours.
Breathe. Slow, slower. Panicking will only make things worse
Yule wanted a break from the darkness. Close his eyes and maybe he would wake and this would be a bad dream. Wake up back in his nest and laugh about how silly it had all been. Part of him wanted to preen himself, too many feathers were out of place it almost hurt. The other part didn’t want to know how matted his feathers were with blood and grime. He must look like a complete wreck. Why him? What had he done to be put here?
Breathe. He tried not to choke on the sobs that threatened to spill over. It won’t help, not here.
How long could he last down here? Was the ringing in his ears from the silence of being six feet under or a sign that he had used up most of his air already? Even if he could crack the lid the dirt piled above would then crush him.
Breathe, it’s all he can do.
Would anyone be able to find him? Would he die alone, already buried in his grave? A broken laugh bubbled out from his chest as he shut his eyes and tried to stop himself from crying. He didn’t want to be alone right now. His lungs are already starting to burn. How much time did he have left? Yule didn’t want to die, not yet at least.
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