I remembered a story I heard about a woman who woke up inside her own coffin. She banged hard as she could, and briefly, a few funeral-goers deemed her a returned member of the undead. This was my undead moment, awakened in the dark, alive in my own coffin.
I vomited salt water inside the contraption that held me. Once again, blood washing in the water. However, it all splashed back in my face. The prison I was trapped in had encased me with less than a foot of room all the way around. I leaned back on the cold silver-plated thing surrounding me. Dressed in different clothes than what I remember. Loose fading gray sweatpants and a plain white shirt. I let my body rest, consciousness slowly slipping away. How lovely it felt, like ancestors calling you home. Whispering in a language that on
