Everyone in this world is afraid of something; the fear of commitment, the fear of bodies of water, the fear of insects, or in my case, the fear of confined places. We live our lives as normally as we can, trying our best to avoid these things that shake us to the core. We rarely think about these fears and try our best to block them out because even the idea of facing them is too much to bear. Now imagine yourself being shoved into your worst nightmare. This is the story of how I came face to face with my own traumatizing agony. It all started when I was nine, and I got stuck in a dark elevator for what felt like ages. After that, I was unable to stay in a closed confined place without feeling as if the walls of that area were closing in on me and slowly suffocating me. It was a Friday morning in my seaside house that started with me staring at my reflection in the mirror. What stared back at me were the tired brown eyes, the plain brown hair, and the freckled face of a person who desperately ached for sleep. A long day was ahead of me; it was my 25th birthday and my friends were preparing what was supposed to be a surprise for me. What I didn't know was that I was in for a real surprise. The hours that separated the morning from my party flew by, and I was preparing myself for the party while watching the sun setting over the shimmering sea water. The sun had already set when I got to Makela's house, which was where my friends planned to “surprise” me. I rang the bell and was greeted by a smiling Makela. I soon found myself trapped in her arms. Slowly, she led me to the room where the rest of my friends were hiding, waiting for me to make my entrance. “Surprise!” they all shouted as I came in, and the music started playing. Everyone was laughing and having a good time and soon after cutting the cake, it was time to leave. I hugged and thanked Makela as I headed for my car. I was ready to leave the party but wasn't ready to go back home just yet. I headed to where I usually go to be alone, to my beachside haven. It was a deserted parking lot that overlooked the ocean. There was just a single white light that illuminated the empty lot. I stepped out of my car and sat on its hood as I gazed into the reflection of the moonlight over the sedating waves. I liked that place, the smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves, and the subtle breezes that came every once in a while. All of a sudden I felt a blow to the back of my head; it was the last memory I had. The pain soared through my body and woke me up. I was in what seemed like a wooden box. It was small and dark, and it reeked of the smell of mold and dirt. I started to panic. I then breathed heavily and tried my best to get out. I screamed as loud as I could but to no avail. Scratching, pounding, beating at the boards, I tried to claw my way out. My heart was racing; my body, shivering, quivering. Sweat covered my skin. All I got in return was the sound of an owl and the chirps of crickets. Suddenly the box moved and I felt as if it was being lowered into a hole. The sudden realization of what was going on shook me to the core. I was being buried alive! I became more stressed; breathing became more and more difficult. I knew it was to no use but I kept screaming. The sound of the dirt as it was being shoved on top of the box made me realize I was not going to get out. I knew then and there that I was going to die. My worst nightmares were coming to life.
Blue and red lights illuminated the area of my premature grave. I stared down as the police dug my lifeless body out of the ground. Makela was staring in awe, agony evident on her face, as she gazed onto what was left of me. She had called my house to check if I had arrrived home safely, and when no one answered she tried my cell phone. When that failed, she drove over to the parking lot to find my abandoned car. She called the police who in a few hours were able to locate what I thought would be my final resting place. The sirens of the police cars that blew as the sun rose over the edge of the sea was the last image I had in this life and now I was moving on to the next. — Raghad Abu-Hamdan (Inspired by Abdulrahman Abu-Hamdan) Jeddah
