Written in 1994 while I was on an Army field deployment, this Poe influenced short story chronicles a man returning from travels in the early 19th Century, only to be overcome by an illness that renders him unconscious...and the horrible aftermath.
Weary from my travels, I decided to lay my head to rest at the home of my beloved family. As I approached the door, I felt faint but regained my composure enough to greet my mother. An exchange of greetings followed but I still felt faint.
A great feast was prepared in honor of my coming, yet I still felt uneasy. I felt cold and my body reeked with perspiration; thus I asked to be excused from the dining hall. I was cordially obliged and stammered to my sleeping quarters to rest for once. I walked down the corridor leading to my room and it seemed as though the walls were waves from the great mare from which I had just emerged. If only to reach the comfort of my bed....
The huge oak door swung open to reveal that my room had indeed been kept the way it was while I occupied it before I had left for my travels. I swooned onto my bed, looking at the patterns on the ceiling dance in the candlelight. Suddenly, the room seemed as though it was a turbulent whirlwind, carouseling about in a most peculiar fashion....and then I drifted off into unconsciousness.
Th voices were familiar and echoed through the great room. My mother and the rest of my family all cried my name but I couldn't speak. Oh, how frightful! A simple acknowledge would suffice, yet my body wouldn't correspond. I heard them say among themselves that my life had ended...but no! I am not yet dead!
My mind was exploding with anger, yet I couldn't show it. My body was aching, cold and stiff but I couldn't move a muscle.
"I know I am not dead," I spoke to myself, "otherwise how would I be able to interpret my surroundings so well?" My mother cried aloud; the end had came at the hour of nine they said...But I am not yet dead! Please, someone hear me! The anxiety grew ever so rapidly as the scene unfolded in my mind. The doctor touching my extremities, listening to my surely heartless chest...please listen to me! I am not yet dead!
I felt the hands of someone at each corner of my body removing me from my bed. If only I could move a hand, I'd show them all I am not yet dead. I felt the stiffness of the pine board they placed me in..."I am fully aware of all this! Can't you see? I am not yet dead!" The noise of the hammers sealing me in the box would surely revive me I thought. I tried to move but my body was lifeless. No...this is all some horrid dream! I am really at full slumber in my bed! I am not yet dead!
The cold January air pierced its way into my new bed, chilling my every bone. A few words I heard proved that I was the subject of a rite of consecration...but no! I am not yet dead! I wished to break free from this spell cast upon me! A sickening feeling came over me as I felt myself being lowered into Mother Earth. I wanted to struggle, to beat upon the pine covering. To show them I am not yet dead!
The air thickened as I heard the ominous pounding of earth against wood. Dear God let this dream cease! The pounding stopped, and the air grew thicker. I struggled to breathe and at that instant, my eyes opened to reveal nothing but darkness around me. My body tingled as the blood raced back into the vessels again. I began to realize this was no dream; that I'd been consecrated alive! No, this can't be! I beat furiously on the box's top, but only to deaf ears. I cried out time and time again, but no one shall hear my final cries...I am not yet dead!!
