Underwater chain and light

(Photo credit: GerryT)

Awake, trapped in the darkness.  Can’t move arms, something wrapping them against my body.  Legs tied together; I try to move them, there is a clinking of chains and a clunk of metal against wood.

Ah, now I remember; Mazzanti and his crew.  The show hadn’t been doing so well, and I’d tried to jazz it up a bit.  That and the hotels, the drugs, the booze, the women…

The strait jacket and chains are tight; his boys weren’t messing around when they strapped me in.  Just for shits and giggles, after they’d dressed me in my ‘work’ clothes, they’d put me in a coffin and gave me a tap on the head, then thrown me into the bay.

Figure I’ve got about a minute before I run out of air.

First thing’s first, relax; need to keep calm and think this through, need to be methodical.  I start by dislocating my left shoulder, corny I know but it’s essential; it gives me a bit of wiggle room.  I push my left arm round to my backside, and put my fingers into the place where the sun doesn’t shine, but where a key does, unless Mazzanti’s boys have been particularly inquisitive…they haven’t, which is good news for me.  I pull my arm round to the front, and slowly shove it upwards through the opening in the collar of the jacket.

45 seconds.

I bring my knees up so that I’m in a foetal position, and feel around for the padlock, which the guys have thoughtfully locked in front of me instead of behind me; thanks again boys.  I find the keyhole and unlock one of the locks, then find another and repeat the process.

30 seconds.

I lie down straight again, push my left arm out through the collar of the jacket, and start undoing the first of the three straps, then the second, finally the third, and pull the jacket over my head.  I squish it down beside me.  Now I need to get the hell out of this damn box.

15 seconds.

I place the palms of my hands flat up against the lids and the sides of the coffin, looking for weakness.   Seems that the boys have wrapped another chain around the coffin instead of nailing the thing closed; really guys, you’re too kind.  Did I forget to mention that they’d bought the kind of coffin without a hinged lid?  Yes, that’s right, the cheaper kind; seems Mazzanti felt like he’d wasted enough money on me.  This means that I can push up against the lid with my hands and knees, push the it away from the coffin just enough to make a gap, push my fingers out and slide the lid off…

One inch…water starts spurting in; I take a deep breath…

Three inches, now the water’s pouring into the box….

Eight inches…



About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
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6 Responses to Escape

  1. I was in there with him…. Good piece..x

  2. Leslie says:

    Really well done! For a moment – I wondered if he might die down there. Glad to see he made it 😉

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