MidReal Story
Whispers of the Forgotten: Unraveling Emily's Demise
Scenario: write me a story about a girl waking up in her grave realizing she is dead but has no idea how she died
Create my version of this story
Emily Carter
the girl who wakes up in her grave, no relationships specified, pale with dark circles under her eyes, confused and determined.
Sarah Jennings
Emily's best friend from childhood, mourning Emily's death, short with curly red hair, loyal and emotional.
Detective James Holloway
lead detective investigating Emily's case, interacts with Emily as a spirit, tall with sharp features, skeptical yet compassionate.
I woke up in my grave.
It was dark, and I was cold.
I tried to sit up, but my head hit the lid of the coffin.
I reached out, but my hands hit the sides of the coffin.
I tried to kick, but my feet hit the bottom of the coffin.
I was trapped.
I was in a coffin, buried underground.
And I was alive.
I screamed until my throat hurt, but no one came to help me.
I cried until my eyes hurt, but no one came to comfort me.
I prayed until my voice gave out, but no one came to save me.
And then I realized that no one would come for me because I was already dead.
The last thing I remembered was going to a party with my friends and having a good time.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my grave with no memory of how I got there or how long I had been dead.
The thought made me sick to my stomach, and I threw up in the coffin.
I lay there for a long time, shivering and crying and trying to make sense of what had happened.
The memories came back to me in bits and pieces.
I remembered dancing and laughing at the party with my friends.
I remembered leaving the party.
I remembered walking home in the dark.
And then there was nothing.
What happened after that?
How did I end up in a coffin?
I reached up to touch my face, but my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely feel my skin.
I had always been pale, but now my skin was almost translucent, like paper.
There were dark circles under my eyes, and my cheeks were sunken and hollow.
I looked like I had been dead for weeks, if not months.
How long had I been in the coffin?
How long had I been dead?
The thoughts made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes and take deep breaths to calm myself down.
When I opened my eyes again, I was still in the coffin, and I was still very much dead.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, and I started to panic.
I pushed against the lid of the coffin with all of my strength, but it wouldn't budge.
It was like trying to move a mountain.
I was trapped, buried alive, and there was nothing I could do about it.
The air in the coffin was getting stale, and I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate.
I knew that I needed to calm down and conserve my energy if I was going to get out of this mess.
But that was easier said than done.
I pounded on the lid of the coffin with my fists until they were raw and bleeding.
I screamed until my voice gave out again.
And then I stopped.
The silence in the coffin was deafening, and it seemed to stretch on for hours.
But then I heard something else: a low moan that sounded like it was coming from me.
It took me a moment to realize that it was.
I didn't know where it came from or how it got there, but it was mine now.
It was a part of me.
I sat up and looked at my hand, which was throbbing with pain.
There was a silver ring on my finger, engraved with a strange symbol: a triquetra with a crescent moon.
I had never seen it before, and I didn't know what it meant.
But somehow, I knew that it was important.
More important than anything else in the world at that moment.
As I stared at the ring, something strange happened: my hand started to tingle, and then it slowly began to sink through the wood of the coffin as though it wasn't even there.
It was real.
I was really dead.
I reached down and put my hand over my heart.
It wasn't beating.
I couldn't feel it pounding in my chest or hear it in my ears.
It was just… still.
Like the rest of me.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It felt strange not to have air in my lungs, but somehow I was still breathing.
I could still hear and see and think.
I was still alive in some way.
I looked around the coffin and tried to take stock of my situation.
I was lying on my back with my arms at my sides, like I was sleeping.
I was wearing a white dress with long sleeves and a high collar.
It was the kind of dress that you would wear to a funeral, which seemed fitting under the circumstances.
My hair was spread out around me in an inky black halo, and my skin was so pale that it glowed in the darkness.
My eyes were open, and I could see the coffin lid above me, just inches from my face.
I reached up and tried to push it open again, but it was no use.
It was no use.
My vision was hazy and unfocused, like there was a film over my eyes.
I blinked and rubbed at them with my hands, but it didn't help.
I felt weak and disoriented, like I had been drugged or hadn't eaten in days.
I tried to sit up again, but my head was spinning so badly that I had to lie back down before I threw up all over myself again.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember how I got here.
What happened after I left the party?
How did I end up in the coffin?
My memories were all mixed up and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together.
There was something about being chased through the woods.
And something about falling down and hitting my head on a rock.
There was a sharp pain in my temple when I thought about it, but the memory was already starting to fade.
Or maybe it wasn't real at all.
I opened my eyes and looked around the coffin again.
There was a small hole in the side of the coffin where I had put my hand through the wood, and I could see dirt and roots on the other side.
How far down was I?
And how was I going to get out of here?
I pounded on the sides of the coffin with my fists again, but they were weak and sore, and I didn't have enough energy left to make much noise.
I wanted to scream for help, but my voice was gone.
I wanted to cry, but I didn't have any tears left.
I wanted to wake up from this nightmare, but I already knew that wasn't going to happen.
I was dead, and I was stuck here.
I lay in the darkness for a long time, trying to come to terms with my new reality.
And then I heard something: a faint, muffled sound that seemed to be coming from outside of the coffin.
It was a voice, and it was calling for help.
It sounded like something heavy falling, and it echoed through the darkness surrounding me.
It took me a minute to realize that the sound was coming from above me, on the other side of the wooden lid of the coffin.
At first, I thought that maybe someone was digging me up, but then I remembered that I was alone.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the noise, listening carefully for any other sounds that might give me a clue about what was happening.
But all I could hear was the wind rustling through the trees and the distant sound of traffic on the highway.
It didn't sound like there was anyone else out there.
The panic came surging back up inside of me, threatening to overwhelm me again, but this time I managed to push it down and keep it under control.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself down, focusing on the noise above me as it grew louder and closer.
It sounded like someone was moving around on top of the ground, shuffling and kicking at the dirt.
And then I heard it: a loud, metallic clang.
It sounded like something heavy being dropped on top of a metal surface.
A shovel, maybe?
The lid of my coffin shifted slightly as I sat up, and I put my hand against it again, pushing as hard as I could.
To my surprise, it passed through the wood like it wasn't even there.
I pulled my hand back and looked at it, turning it over and inspecting it from every angle.
It looked like a normal hand, except for the fact that I could see right through it.
That was weird.
I held my hand up to my face and wiggled my fingers, watching as they moved back and forth without any resistance.
I waved my hand in front of my face, but I couldn't feel anything.
It was like my hand wasn't even there.
This new discovery fascinated and terrified me at the same time, but it also gave me a glimmer of hope.
Maybe I could get out of here after all.
I took a deep breath and put my hand back on the lid of the coffin, pushing through it with all my strength.
The wood felt warm and solid against my skin for a moment, and then it turned cold and damp as I moved through it and into the soil on the other side.
It felt strange and tingly, like static electricity on my skin, but it didn't hurt at all.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on what I was doing, trying not to think about how weird it felt or how impossible it should have been.
All I wanted to do was get out of this damn coffin.
With another deep breath, I stretched my arm straight up into the air and pushed through the soil with my hand, focusing on moving upward and through the ground until I reached the surface.
At first, nothing happened, and I thought maybe I was doing it wrong.
But then I felt something shift above me, and a stream of cold night air rushed down into the hole, filling my lungs with a sudden burst of energy.
I cried out in surprise and sucked in another lungful of air, frantically digging my way up through the ground until I finally broke free of the soil and found myself standing outside my own grave.
Except that I wasn't standing.
I was still lying inside the coffin, with my hand stretched up through a solid wooden lid.
My heart sank in my chest, and my stomach twisted into a tight knot of panic.
What was happening?
Why couldn't I get out of this stupid coffin?
It had been so easy before.
Why wasn't it working now?
I breathed in deeply and tried to focus on what I was doing.
Maybe it would help if I sat up first and got a better look at my surroundings.
I pulled my arm back into my body and sat up in the coffin, still trying not to think too much about what I was doing or how impossible it should have been.
It still felt weird, though, like my body was made of smoke or mist instead of flesh and blood.
The panic surged up inside me again, threatening to take over completely, but I pushed it down and focused on what I was doing as best as I could.
I put my hands on either side of the coffin and tried to push myself up, but nothing happened.
The lid didn't move at all.
It felt like I was stuck in one place, like someone had glued me to the bottom of the coffin and there was no way out.
I screamed again and tried to push through the wood with all my strength, but it didn't do any good.
It just made me more upset, which only seemed to make things worse.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down again, knowing that if I didn't then nothing would happen at all.
It took a few minutes of deep breathing before I finally felt calm enough to try again.
This time when I pushed up through the wood of the coffin lid, it disappeared like smoke or fog.
I looked around wildly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness outside of the coffin.
All around me were walls of cold, damp earth stretching off into the distance.
I was in some kind of narrow tunnel, with just enough space to sit up inside it.
It was so small that I could barely move at all, let alone stand up or turn around.
At first, I thought maybe I had just been buried too deep, but then I realized that couldn't be possible because I would have been able to see light above me when I opened my eyes.
There was no way I could be six feet underground.
I must have been somewhere else.
But where?
And how did I get there?
And more importantly, how was I going to get out?
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down, but it didn't do much good.
I was starting to feel panicked again, with a tight, constricting feeling in my chest that made it hard to breathe.
What if I couldn't get out?
What if I was trapped down here forever?
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, trying to force myself to think rationally instead of freaking out.
It wasn't easy, but after a few minutes of deep breathing I started to feel a little bit better.