Grave Mistake
I'm about nine years old, wandering through a graveyard with a couple of mates. We pass one of those big rectangular box-type graves, and notice that the side has fallen in. Looking more closely, we can see that the earth inside has also collapsed down, resulting in a deep hole at one end.

Naturally, we dare each other to climb down into the grave. When it's my turn, I resolve to get in and out as quickly as possible. But once in, I'm distracted for a moment by the site of ancient toe-bones, which I can see poking out of the pile of earth at the bottom of the hole.

Just as I'm feeling slightly weird (!) about being in an occupied grave, there's an ominous creaking noise. I look up, and watch, frozen in fear, as seemingly in slow motion the entire stone box structure keels over, pushing me down and effectively closing me in to the cramped, musty and above all skeleton-occupied hole.

I remember shouts, then blessed light as my best friend (well if he wasn't before, he sure is now!) lifts up the stone slab that used to form the top of the box, and now functions as a very effective cap to the pit. He manages to make a gap just large enough to squeeze through, and you can imagine the speed at which I scramble out. In time-honoured kid fashion, we leg it.

The next day we return, and my mate attempts to lift the slab again. He can't, it's too heavy. It must have been pure adrenalin which gave him the strength to do it the previous day...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 24 Aug 2010, 16:27, 1 reply)

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a small, British version of Stand by Me.
(dchurch bah, Tue 24 Aug 2010, 20:26, closed)