One Foot in the Grave - Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community

clydestinkybeef · 09-28-2003, 09:59 PM

One Foot in the Grave

Damn, it was happening again. The same nightmare I had whenever we had business. I was knee deep in the bayou and I was drenched. My shoulder ached; the wet, burlap and heavy bag was always slung over the same shoulder. The air was filled with the swamp gasses and that curious copper like smell. The worst of all, I couldn’t feel my feet, yet I was trudging as quickly as I could through the brackish water and mud. Like always, something was clawing at my pant leg. Damn.

I was not shocked, nor disturbed at this dream, but more perturbed. This dream was far too often for me to be scared of anymore. I awoke lazily, and smelled that all too common smell. The formaldehyde from the “lab” never left. The lab was the most sterile room in the entire House in which Dr. Otto Von Ensulburg embalmed all the corpses he put into the ground. Ensulburg was the mortician. And I, Dan Smith, was the lowly assistant. Though I was tall, Ensulburg easily towered over me. His thin, lanky, and gaunt body reminded me very much of a giant skeleton. His hands being bleached white from all the chemicals did not help his persona. Though it is curious that parts of his hands become red for a day or so.

Times had been rough on the doctors practice. The crematorium broke, and we were always cutting back on costs. The doctor had to fire most everyone, the only reason I was kept around was because I arranged all the Funeral Home visitations and I bought and hauled all the lumber he was too weak for. The doctor built all the coffins for all the corpses, which was odd since I bought all the lumber. Another oddity the doctor had me do was always buy the same proportions for the lumber. The doctor must be especially good at conserving the wood. Though he was after all a doctor and most likely knew much more about geometry and numbers than I did. Foreigners were always smarter.

Even though our town was relatively small, compared to Baton Rouge, we still had a good chunk of business. The funeral home, which my room was adjacent to, was always bustling with mourners.

I got out of my bed to get some water, when I was witness to a strange noise outside. Slinking towards the window, I saw the doctor steal away with a sack draped over one shoulder. Oddly puzzled, I gave it no more thought than the doctor was a strange foreigner.

Damn, it was happening again. That blasted dream awake me yet again this night. I went to see if the doctor was back yet. I looked at the backdoor, and found his boots solidly caked in mud and muck. Then something on the porch caught my eye. Something red, and liquid was puddle on the porch. I would definitely ask the doctor in the morning.

Damn, it was happening again. The home had visitors again today. The doctor also refused to acknowledge my questions about the previous night. How fortunate was my luck that I was yet again witness to the doctor leaving. This time, I was going to follow. I went through the lab as the long way around, so the doctor would not see me through the back door. As I moved through the lab I noticed an oddly discarded hacksaw soaking in a tub of what smelled like bleach. I did not have time for investigations. I had to track the doctor slipping through the front door; I saw a shadowy figure melt into the dark swamp. I hastened my pace until I entered the bog. I could easily hear the splashing of the doctor as he waded clumsily through the troublesome mire. That odd copper smell was back, just as in my dream. Following the noisy doctor was not difficult, I was much more adept at swamp crawling than the awkward doctor.

The splashing came to a halt as we reached solid ground. Taking refuge behind a tree, I witness the doctor standing in the full moonlight. He slung the bag out into the water. I saw the bag bubble and sink. The bag took its time in sinking; the recent drought had severely lowered the water level in the area. My guess was that if the rain did not come soon, the bag would no longer be submerged. Though, I highly doubt the doctor knew that. It was time to retreat. I took a long way out of the swamp, but I believe that the timing would land me at the Home a few moments after the doctor. Indeed I was right. Upon arriving at the Home, the shed lights were on. I peered into the window, fearing the doctor was in there. Sure enough, he was. But what startled me was not the presence of the doctor, but for the number of coffins. They had all been built the same size, and were all empty. It was time to get back to the bed that held little comfort. As I descended from my perch, I noticed the doctor remove a revolver from a box and put it in his trousers. Very shaken, I quickly scurried back towards my room. Every minute my thoughts were filled with the coffins, the bag, the coppery smell, and the doctor.

The drought had kept up, and the swamp was very dry at the moment. I looked towards the sky; storm clouds had started to gather. I must make my excursion into the swamp before the rain covered the mystery again. The swamp was much easier to move through now; much of it was still sold enough peat to walk on. The rain started come down pretty hard; I had better start moving quickly. As I walked, something gripped my boot. As I struggled, I kicked up whatever I had stomped through. The easily recognizable shape flew through the air and landed in a veritable field of like objects. The rain slowly cleaned off the horror in front of me. As more and more mud was washed away, fear clenched my body even harder. The scene in front of me was a graveyard of appendages. Arms, legs, hands and feet were strewn everywhere. Various stages of decay and rot were present on the body parts. The shock of the discovery was quickly cut short, as the metal of a spade was crushed into the back of my skull.

Damn, it was happening again. Though, something was oddly different this time. I couldn’t place my finger on it until the sensation grew more. I could feel my feet, or my ankles really. I could feel them like normal, but then they slowly started to burn. The burning became so intense that the only recourse was to collapse and scream. I awoke, but not in my bed. The scenery had changed, and I found myself in the lab. In my wooden box, that was too small for me, I could see the doctor visibly surprised, holding a bloody hacksaw. My ankles were dangling over the edge of the box, and dripping with blood. Everything quickly became clear. I was too tall for the coffin, adjustments had to be made for me to fit into the cedar box. The doctors’ surprise changed to hatred as his thin and bony face twisted in rage. He reached for the weapon in his trousers. I knew what he was doing, and that knowledge allowed my instincts to move faster. Adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest object, a container of bleach. Before the doctor took the initiative I splashed bleach into his beady eyes. He howled and dropped his only advantage. That advantage soon became mine as I lunged from my would be tomb. His howls continued. The Voice of God boomed out, again and again. Then there was silence. No more howls, no more booms. The next sound was the clattering of the revolver on the floor. I then realized what I had done.

What was done was done. I bandaged my surprisingly still intact ankles. The doctor was still a problem, even in death. I looked around and I could only think of one thing to do. I was a gentleman of honor, even towards foreigners. Everyone deserves a proper burial. I hoisted his body into my former coffin and breathed a heavy sigh.
Damn, it was happening for real this time.

J.R.V.A. · 09-30-2003, 07:57 PM

This is fucking killer... I cant believe no one has commented on this...More MOre!!!!

Angel · 10-01-2003, 03:53 PM

Great story!
I wish I could write stories. I am always awe struck by ones ability to write a story.
Thanks!

~Angel~

ForgottenKnight · 10-01-2003, 04:07 PM

VERY NICE! Keep up the good work!

chavos · 10-01-2003, 08:03 PM

creepy...

i've heard a story with a similar punch line/hook at the end, but i didn't see it coming until late in the game. you break up the narrative well, using the dreams...though i do get a little lost at points. some more time markers might be needed.

overall, a great story. thanks for sharing it here!

09-28-2003, 09:59 PM	#1 (permalink)
clydestinkybeef Loser	One Foot in the Grave One Foot in the Grave Damn, it was happening again. The same nightmare I had whenever we had business. I was knee deep in the bayou and I was drenched. My shoulder ached; the wet, burlap and heavy bag was always slung over the same shoulder. The air was filled with the swamp gasses and that curious copper like smell. The worst of all, I couldn’t feel my feet, yet I was trudging as quickly as I could through the brackish water and mud. Like always, something was clawing at my pant leg. Damn. I was not shocked, nor disturbed at this dream, but more perturbed. This dream was far too often for me to be scared of anymore. I awoke lazily, and smelled that all too common smell. The formaldehyde from the “lab” never left. The lab was the most sterile room in the entire House in which Dr. Otto Von Ensulburg embalmed all the corpses he put into the ground. Ensulburg was the mortician. And I, Dan Smith, was the lowly assistant. Though I was tall, Ensulburg easily towered over me. His thin, lanky, and gaunt body reminded me very much of a giant skeleton. His hands being bleached white from all the chemicals did not help his persona. Though it is curious that parts of his hands become red for a day or so. Times had been rough on the doctors practice. The crematorium broke, and we were always cutting back on costs. The doctor had to fire most everyone, the only reason I was kept around was because I arranged all the Funeral Home visitations and I bought and hauled all the lumber he was too weak for. The doctor built all the coffins for all the corpses, which was odd since I bought all the lumber. Another oddity the doctor had me do was always buy the same proportions for the lumber. The doctor must be especially good at conserving the wood. Though he was after all a doctor and most likely knew much more about geometry and numbers than I did. Foreigners were always smarter. Even though our town was relatively small, compared to Baton Rouge, we still had a good chunk of business. The funeral home, which my room was adjacent to, was always bustling with mourners. I got out of my bed to get some water, when I was witness to a strange noise outside. Slinking towards the window, I saw the doctor steal away with a sack draped over one shoulder. Oddly puzzled, I gave it no more thought than the doctor was a strange foreigner. Damn, it was happening again. That blasted dream awake me yet again this night. I went to see if the doctor was back yet. I looked at the backdoor, and found his boots solidly caked in mud and muck. Then something on the porch caught my eye. Something red, and liquid was puddle on the porch. I would definitely ask the doctor in the morning. Damn, it was happening again. The home had visitors again today. The doctor also refused to acknowledge my questions about the previous night. How fortunate was my luck that I was yet again witness to the doctor leaving. This time, I was going to follow. I went through the lab as the long way around, so the doctor would not see me through the back door. As I moved through the lab I noticed an oddly discarded hacksaw soaking in a tub of what smelled like bleach. I did not have time for investigations. I had to track the doctor slipping through the front door; I saw a shadowy figure melt into the dark swamp. I hastened my pace until I entered the bog. I could easily hear the splashing of the doctor as he waded clumsily through the troublesome mire. That odd copper smell was back, just as in my dream. Following the noisy doctor was not difficult, I was much more adept at swamp crawling than the awkward doctor. The splashing came to a halt as we reached solid ground. Taking refuge behind a tree, I witness the doctor standing in the full moonlight. He slung the bag out into the water. I saw the bag bubble and sink. The bag took its time in sinking; the recent drought had severely lowered the water level in the area. My guess was that if the rain did not come soon, the bag would no longer be submerged. Though, I highly doubt the doctor knew that. It was time to retreat. I took a long way out of the swamp, but I believe that the timing would land me at the Home a few moments after the doctor. Indeed I was right. Upon arriving at the Home, the shed lights were on. I peered into the window, fearing the doctor was in there. Sure enough, he was. But what startled me was not the presence of the doctor, but for the number of coffins. They had all been built the same size, and were all empty. It was time to get back to the bed that held little comfort. As I descended from my perch, I noticed the doctor remove a revolver from a box and put it in his trousers. Very shaken, I quickly scurried back towards my room. Every minute my thoughts were filled with the coffins, the bag, the coppery smell, and the doctor. The drought had kept up, and the swamp was very dry at the moment. I looked towards the sky; storm clouds had started to gather. I must make my excursion into the swamp before the rain covered the mystery again. The swamp was much easier to move through now; much of it was still sold enough peat to walk on. The rain started come down pretty hard; I had better start moving quickly. As I walked, something gripped my boot. As I struggled, I kicked up whatever I had stomped through. The easily recognizable shape flew through the air and landed in a veritable field of like objects. The rain slowly cleaned off the horror in front of me. As more and more mud was washed away, fear clenched my body even harder. The scene in front of me was a graveyard of appendages. Arms, legs, hands and feet were strewn everywhere. Various stages of decay and rot were present on the body parts. The shock of the discovery was quickly cut short, as the metal of a spade was crushed into the back of my skull. Damn, it was happening again. Though, something was oddly different this time. I couldn’t place my finger on it until the sensation grew more. I could feel my feet, or my ankles really. I could feel them like normal, but then they slowly started to burn. The burning became so intense that the only recourse was to collapse and scream. I awoke, but not in my bed. The scenery had changed, and I found myself in the lab. In my wooden box, that was too small for me, I could see the doctor visibly surprised, holding a bloody hacksaw. My ankles were dangling over the edge of the box, and dripping with blood. Everything quickly became clear. I was too tall for the coffin, adjustments had to be made for me to fit into the cedar box. The doctors’ surprise changed to hatred as his thin and bony face twisted in rage. He reached for the weapon in his trousers. I knew what he was doing, and that knowledge allowed my instincts to move faster. Adrenaline surged through me. I grabbed the nearest object, a container of bleach. Before the doctor took the initiative I splashed bleach into his beady eyes. He howled and dropped his only advantage. That advantage soon became mine as I lunged from my would be tomb. His howls continued. The Voice of God boomed out, again and again. Then there was silence. No more howls, no more booms. The next sound was the clattering of the revolver on the floor. I then realized what I had done. What was done was done. I bandaged my surprisingly still intact ankles. The doctor was still a problem, even in death. I looked around and I could only think of one thing to do. I was a gentleman of honor, even towards foreigners. Everyone deserves a proper burial. I hoisted his body into my former coffin and breathed a heavy sigh. Damn, it was happening for real this time.

09-30-2003, 07:57 PM	#2 (permalink)
J.R.V.A. Junkie Location: Utah	This is fucking killer... I cant believe no one has commented on this...More MOre!!!! __________________ And as she plays, her sweet song of laughter floats through the air and warms my heart

10-01-2003, 03:53 PM	#3 (permalink)
Angel Naughty Just Right Location: Euphoria	Great story! I wish I could write stories. I am always awe struck by ones ability to write a story. Thanks! ~Angel~ __________________ In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer. ~Albert Camus

10-01-2003, 04:07 PM	#4 (permalink)
ForgottenKnight Jesus Freak Location: Following the light...	VERY NICE! Keep up the good work! __________________ "People say I'm strange, does that make me a stranger?"

10-01-2003, 08:03 PM	#5 (permalink)
chavos Banned Location: St. Paul, MN	creepy... i've heard a story with a similar punch line/hook at the end, but i didn't see it coming until late in the game. you break up the narrative well, using the dreams...though i do get a little lost at points. some more time markers might be needed. overall, a great story. thanks for sharing it here!