Buried Identity
You wake in choking blackness.
Soil presses against your lips. Splinters cut your gums. You cannot breathe.
Your arms flail upward, clawing at wood, tearing at dirt. Fingernails rip. Blood floods your mouth with the taste of earth.
There is no memory. No name. Only panic. Only survival.
Above you, something waits - air, light... or something worse.
Criado 30 de ago. de 2025
Atualizado 1 de set. de 2025
Publicado 1 de set. de 2025
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