Clarabelle

a #fridayflash excerpt from “Suffocation Bell” by David G Shrock

The smell of lilac and pine consumed the heavy air. Silence wrapped around becoming a constant chime. A softness cradled around nestled from head to toe. Time was lost, recent memories untouchable. Day or night, winter or summer, nothing was certain. The endless note increased in volume threatening to crack the darkness. Lilac overpowered pine turning sour. The heavy air wrung moisture. An invisible grip squeezed.

Clarabelle lurched up. Forehead struck—sparkles—and she flopped back down on the pillow puffing around each side of her head.

Hand rising, knuckles scraped a cold surface.

She rubbed her throbbing head.

Her hands slid down her front. Fingers caressed lace running over breasts, soft fabric snug around her belly, smooth loose folds swelled over her hips.

She wore her best Sunday dress.

Reaching into her memory, she searched for recent events. Images flashed: dancing in the garden, enjoying tea in the veranda. She watched the scenes, as a child running across the cotton field then as an adult sitting beside the fire, as a child again. No order, only the apparent age fitting each scene into place.

Hands rising, Clarabelle touched the cool wood above her face. Faint red with hazy edges, shapes followed her hand movement sliding outward along the smooth wood grain. She saw her hands.

Hearing a faint crunching sound, she dropped her hands on her chest and listened.

Insides gurgled. The invisible grip tightened. She breathed, gulping air in fits, lip quivering.

A swift crunch crackled from everywhere and nowhere.

Lifting her hand, elbow struck against a wall on the right, thud booming. Swinging hands out, she felt the narrow walls. Fists and feet hit the wood above, knocking, increasing into a fury, deep thuds beating against her ears. Flailing at the sides, her knuckles scratched against the wood biting into flesh.

Jaw stretching wide, searing heat bellowing up her throat, she released a shrill scream as she banged hands against the walls. Hot air rushed out, sticky phlegm splattering around her mouth. Abdomen caving in, the grip squeezed the air out of her turning the cry into a broken gurgle.

She sucked in air, head spinning. Tired feet fell silent, heavy hands collapsed upon her chest. Lungs pressing against the tight embrace, refused the air as if poison.

Throat burned. Tongue hanging out, she coughed fits.

Holding her hands before her face, she gazed at faint dark red splotches. Looking at the hazy spots, she relaxed. The pain withdrew, but the squeezing increased. Watching her hands, she realized there was light, an opening to freedom.

A gnash, vibrations raced underneath.

Turning head in each direction, she searched for the source of light, a hole or a crack. Lifting and twisting her head pressed against the wood, she peered around. Gazing down the length of her body, she saw her legs, a dim red haze within the dress.

A crunch and pop boomed.

She drew in a deep breath, stinging her throat. “Is somebody there?” Her own voice boomed in her ears.

Placing her hands against the roof, she pushed. Teeth clenched, she grunted and pushed. The right side gave a fraction and fell, hands tumbling onto her chest.

Crunch and snap. Everything shook. Metal scraped wood.

Scooting right, she pressed against the wall and raised both hands to the lid. Taking in a deep searing breath, she drew her knees up jamming between her abdomen and the enclosure. Releasing breath, she pushed with her hands and knees.

The lid bounced up, dirt and grit sprinkled over her arms and face. She spat acrid soil, the smell of the earth crawled into her nostrils. Feeling bugs scurrying, she scrambled, swiping at her face and arms, knuckles scraping wood.

She wheezed. Tugging at collar, buttons popped and fabric ripped. No help. Dress squeezed, suffocating.

Mouth wrenching open, she released a scream and pushed, arms molten hot, knees popping.

The top swung up, dirt pouring in as she lurched up, pushing and screaming, sounds shifting from the deep groan to an open echo. Light poured in. Her scream died, grit sticking inside her mouth.

“God save me,” a voice said.

Through the rising dust, Clarabelle saw a man stumbling back against a sloping dirt wall, his eyes bulbous and full of fear. A shovel fell from his grasp. Glancing up, she gazed out of a hole at a purple sky full of stars, bright wispy clouds of stars. Below, she saw her dress covered in dirt. Feet buried, she stood inside a casket, a slanted wall of dirt piled against the side.

The gravedigger crawled up the slope, pushing streams of dirt sliding into the hole. He cried out to God.

Even outside the coffin, the invisible grip tightened around threatening suffocation. Looking down at the Sunday dress covered in dirt, she scowled at the garment. Reaching between her breasts, she gripped her dress. She pulled tearing fabric. Her fingers dug into the white laces running the length of the corset, and ripped them free.

Wearing only her loose silk undergarment, breeze caressing skin, she tossed the corset aside. Her body expanded, and the burning within faded. Running fingers through her midnight hair, she combed dirt showering behind. Raising hands overhead, twirling in a circle, she breathed in the cool air of freedom.

She spotted another man above standing at the edge of the hole peering down. A hat with a wide brim rested atop his head. His face appeared ashen, ill, but his eyes captured her attention. The orbs were luminous, irises gleaming red. Although she failed finding the man in her memories, she recognized him at once as if whispered into her thoughts.

Demetri knelt and extended his arm. “I apologize,” he said. “Your illness took a turn for the worse. They believed you dead.”

“I have missed the sunset.” She gazed up at stars, jewels in the purple sea. “Was it beautiful?”

“Never as beautiful as the night.” The voice was a deep chorus, tranquil and soothing. “Or your dark hair glistening beneath the stars.”

Clarabelle accepted his hand.

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This excerpt is a flashback from “Suffocation Bell,” an urban dark fantasy short story of 8,000 words available for download in PDF and ePub at Suffocation Bell blog entry.