Flash Fiction - 2007

Winner - July/August Flash Fiction

Stosh Misiaszek

Glass Coffin

(a story of unrequited love)

Six pallbearers had a hard time carrying him.

It wasn’t that he weighed much. It was the way he thrashed about so in his coffin.

His desperate, frantic activity caused the pallbearers to adjust their stride from time to time. But, like robots, they bore him to the grave.

He pressed his face against the lid and looked out wildly. The coffin was made of glass, which afforded him an excellent view of his own burial. He gestured, pounded, scratched, clawed and thrashed but to no avail.

They lowered him into the grave and wept. Words were spoken. Tears were shed. Rituals were performed and, in the end,

the gathered departed.

I knew that the man with the backhoe would arrive shortly to finish the job.

A young woman appeared on the scene.

She recognized the man in the glass coffin and ran to him. She flung herself into the grave and tore vainly at the lid.

Her efforts continued until here fingers broke and bled. She grabbed at the nearby rocks which had been unearthed and pounded on the glass.

The glass chipped but failed to yield. It was too thick.

After he suffocated, her efforts became pointless, but she continued nonetheless. Only when she became exhausted did she stop. Despairing, she left, not knowing that she had had the key to unlock the lid all along.

I knew that she had the key. I had seen it. I had watched myself as I progressed toward the grave. I had seen myself struggle for escape. And I had known that she would come.

Certainly I could have released myself. Just as certainly, she could have released me.

But neither of us did.