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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2238373-Death
by Shamus
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2238373
I wasn't dead, but nobody believed me!
It wasn't until they started to screw the coffin lid down that I realized I could still hear! I couldn't move a muscle nor could I speak! I was absolutely powerless and about to be carted off to the crematorium.

It all started with me collapsing in the garden. I had intended pruning the roses, but ended up looking closely at a leaf on the grass against my nose. I don't remember collapsing, or losing consciousness. Somebody had called an ambulance and two paramedics were probing and trying to resuscitate me. They bared my chest and attached two pads and then sent an electric shock into me.

I know a doctor was called and he examined me and after a while declared me dead to my distraught wife. I could do nothing to prevent all this drama. I just lay there absolutely powerless, but I could hear everything. I tried shouting without success. I tried to move my arms and legs, but nothing happened. It was useless!

From the damp grass to my bed was undertaken to a hastily prepared stretcher by neighbors who had kindly agreed that I should spend some time on a bed in the spare room before being carted off to the undertakers. My dear tearful wife had come in and patted me on the forehead, saying to a friend that I could go in those clothes! I desperately tried to open my eyes and move any limb, without success!

Time passed and I had no idea how long I had been in the spare room. The next thing I was aware of was being stuffed into a rather smelly black bag. Two men manhandled me into a wooden box and the next thing I was aware of was being trundled into a van.

After a journey which involved me learning all the latest football scores, the weather and the state of the undertaking business, I was unloaded into a very, very, cold room where I was taken out of the box and laid out on a metal tray which slid into a rack. It was then I began to have twinges in my arms and hands. I was also beginning to be able to open my eyes and after blinking furiously I could see little except for the covering over my body.

It was a bit of a shock to discover I wasn't quite dead! My arms and hands were beginning to return to normal and my first objective was to get this covering off my face! Before I could do anything, I could hear a door opening and I was lifted off the rack and transferred to a hard marble surface. The covering was lifted off my face and I could just make out the outline of a female person bustling about and rattling a tray of instruments.

This person then began to try and turn my body so that I was laying on my side. This was the opportunity for me to get somebody's attention. I tried wriggling my fingers. Nothing! With some sort of effort I managed to open my eyes! It was the scream from the person and the fact that she had dropped the tray of instruments with a resounding clatter, that brought a great number of people into the room.

After all the shouting and the shock had worn off they managed to get me onto a couch in the reception area of the undertakers. It was then that the feeling of normality began to restore itself to the rest of my body. So many questions were being asked of not only me but the undertaker and his staff. A doctor had been summoned and he was busy checking every part of me.

It appears I was a very lucky person that day. The woman was about to begin to block all my orifices and prepare my face for my relatives to see me for the last time. After that I would have had my coffin screwed down and then a one way journey to the crematorium and a rather painful death!

I never did find out to my satisfaction just what did happen for my body to shut down like that! All I know now, laying on the golden sand on this beautiful tropical island is that life couldn't be better. The medics have pronounced me fit and well and I've even divorced my wife and met up with a gorgeous sex mad blonde who, as I write this, is busy trying to breathe life into my rising penis.

End.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2238373-Death