Written for Friday Fictioneers.
I can see the sky clearly through the branches of the tree. How long I have been down here remains a mystery to me. I can feel the handcuffs on my wrists and the chains that bind my feet. I have a dark idea that this is supposed to be my grave. There appears to be patches of dirt covering my body. I hear voices speaking softly above me. I suddenly feel something that hits my chest. It’s more dirt! Shadows drift slowly above me, one from each side. I start to scream as more dirt fills my mouth.