q Sub Terra / Maggie Rosinski

Sub Terra

Maggie RosinskiI wake to utter darkness. It isn’t the darkness that comes at night, when all is still and the moon still shows its glowing face. No, it is pitch black, so black that even in passing a hand before my face, I cannot see a thing. trophobia, of helplessness, that are building up inside me. I slow my thoughts to a halt. For some time, I doze, lost in a dark valley of shadow and existential dread. Unseen monsters pursue me, but there is no escape from the dark

“Hello?” I call out. The darkness yields no coffin. I wake once again with a gasp, choking response. on dust and black humus. Oxygen is running out.

I think I will sit up and move about to search There is not much time left. for some light or a way out. To my horror, I find In desperation, I scream and bang with all my the search impossible. I can only lift my head a might on the walls of my prison in a final attempt few inches before it hits a hard surface above to make myself heard. me. I feel it with my hands, move my feet. All I That scream might be my last mark on the can feel is a hard surface with rounded edges, I world, my final words shouted from the depths am completely enclosed. and heard only by earth and darkness. It is too

I once read in a safety manual at school that soon, too soon. My life has barely begun and it was best in situations like this to conserve oxy- now it is leaving me, friendless and alone. I think gen to prevent suffoca- of all the things I have tion. So I close my eyes and relaxed, drawing in “For some time, I think I dozed, yet to do, and in my mind flashes the faces deep, slow breaths. In and out, in and out. lost in a dark valley of shadow of those I love and who love me, images of hap-

Calmer, I dig into my and existential dread.” pier days and the home pockets, half hoping I will never see again.

there might be some Z With pangs of regret, sharp object or bit the darkness seems of stone I might use to grow ever closer, to break the walls of threatening to swallow my prison. But there is nothing. My mind races, me whole. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I just searching for something, anything I can do. But fell asleep now, never to wake. I am out of options. My first instinct is to panic, I feel nothing as the air rus out and my conbut I force myself to quell the feelings of claus- sciousness fades away. q