alright i know that this is majorly huge and all but i finally finished this story for my creative writing class. i know most wont read it but oh well... at least i showed you all...





Six Feet Under
A piece of the local paper floats by carried by the wind. No one is on this particular stretch of street, except for a pair of pathetic looking cats, striving to find something to eat in order to survive. Street lamps flicker on and off, grasping to the very light that they create. They are the very one distinction between the dead of night and the rest of the world. All other lamps around have either given up on their light in previous days or been smashed by the neighborhood kids. The very concrete that makes up the road just screams out for someone or something to use it. Everything has lost its place in time, having been forgotten for so long.
This place sure has gone down hill in recent years. The friendly faces that were once seen going up and down these streets have just seemed to disappear. But what am I to do about it? Things never were just mine to tell what to do and what not. I guess I’m just living too much in the past, but can you much blame a guy for trying to get his life back to the way it use to be? People would pack these streets at all time, just living life the way they wanted. Listening to the latest records, groups would huddle around an open doorway or gather around some lucky street vendor who happened to set up shop here that day.
A strange familiar smell begins to fill my nostrils. But from where it comes, I can’t exactly say. It’s one of those smells that you have been exposed to your entire life, but just can’t seem to figure out its place of creation. Total curiosity begins to fill every ounce of my body. My feet begin to move toward their destination without even a voice of direction to move them. Even though I personally don’t know where they will take me, I don’t try to stop. I just give into the curiosity that leads me forward. I look around, trying to figure out my new surroundings, James’ Pub. This place can’t have much business since the Prohibition Act. But maybe I’ll just stop in and see how the old place is doing. The door swings open, and the sudden rush of heat hits me, protecting me from the sheer cold of the night outside. The familiar sounds of voices echo from around the corner. I remove my jacket and hang it on a nail, sticking out from the wall to the side of me. It’s been quite some time since I have been in this particular pub. Everything is still just as I remembered. There on the side of the wall still sits a hole that happened to be made by my very head.
Back in the day I was one of those guys that didn’t take crap from anyone. I wasn’t one of those people that took crap from anyone. People would come in here with their high egos and self pride, but I would try and bring them back down to the level that everyone else was at. Even if the guy was twice my size, I wasn’t just one of those that backed down just because of a few differences in mass.
I look back at the hole sticking in the side of the wall trying to recall which fight with which heavy weight had through me through it.
But that was back in a time when ten foot high was only three feet under me. Now days I have learned to wizen up. I watch those people that come in here with the high egos still. I still feel that urge to go over and teach them a thing or to, but I don’t.
“Well, you look who just walked in.”
I know that voice, but where is he? I look around to see where the voice has come from but with no luck in finding him. Wait a minute! There at the end of the bar there he is. With one of the biggest grins on my face, I approach my old friend. Coming from the outside where there is almost absolute nothingness and then walking in here just fills my body with a slight of hope.
“What brings you in here tonight?”
“To be honest, Miles, I’m not too sure. Just decided to go for a stroll. Then, the next thing I knew I find myself here talking to your ugly mug.” I develop a smile on my face as I silently laugh at my last comment.
“Good to see you still have that sense of humor in ya.” The smell of alcohol instantly reminds me that my good friend isn’t exactly in his right mind right now.
“Wait just a second! Where exactly did you get the liquor? I thought that all liquor was outlawed, thanks to that Prohibition Act.”
“It was and still is, but good ol’ James here seems to know the right people.”
I look around to see James, the owner, with a glass mug in hand, wiping it down with a rag. He looks over at me and Miles and gives us a bit of a nod of approval.
“You know James there tells me that Salvatore Maranzano himself personally delivered the drinks tonight.”
“You don’t mean the mob boss Maranzano, do you?” An image of the very man that struck fear into everyone, doing something to help people out, tries to form in my head. But from stories and pictures that I have seen, the image just doesn’t seem right. How can a man that everyone fears do something that is considered, at least to some, good?
“Yes, the one and only Maranzano. Guess the guy isn’t too bad. Well, anyone who is going to bring drinking back to this town is all right in my book. Now if it were that Rossi character, we might have had a problem.”
“How come you say that?”
“Well, as you know, I’ve always had a bit of a gambling problem.”
How could I forget all those miserable times that I found Miles on the side of the road huddled up in a ball, grasping for the very life that he had? Those, who Miles hustled, were usually that of a much larger size, but the fool never did get it through his head that even though they were bigger, they weren’t as friendly when it came to losing. They would usually take the money lost right out of his very life, with every fist that came into contact with his face, leaving poor Miles with nothing at all.
“Yeah, I can recall one or two times where this might have been a problem.”
“Well, you see, a few days ago, I did something that I regret miserably. I had heard stories of the Rossi family and their dealings with the other mobs. But you know me, I just can’t refuse a game challenge. Frank, the underboss of the Rossi family, challenged me. I had no idea who he was at the time, but something inside of me screamed: “No! Don’t do it!” But the urge to play apparently was yelling louder than that warning. I played a game of aces high. I thought I had a perfect hand, flush with a king high. We both placed our bets and then showed hands. I lay down my hand, but what else should happen? He pulled out a straight flush. I had no more money because I went all in, plus a few of my other belongings. He took everything… everything.”
Miles set his drink down on the bar and stands up. By this time, he has put down several other shots during his story. How he is able to stand is a miracle. He grabs a bowler that lay to the side of him and places it on his head. With all of his items gathered up, he wobbles toward the door and collapses where he stands.
“Ugh” Miles sits up, trying to figure out his new surroundings. The night before, he had been standing at the pub just on his way out. His head began to throb as the sudden rush of everything from the night before begins to take effect, everything from the several drinks that he was able to hold from the bashing of his head on a table when he collapsed.
“Where am I?”
“Nice of you to finally wake up. And don’t you even recognize your own place?” I say as I hand him a small bag of ice. He grabs it and holds it to his head, flinching not ready for the sudden cold.
“How did you know that this was my place?”
“James told me this is where you have been laying your head every night.”
Miles takes the bag of ice off his head and looks around a bit more, finally comes to the conclusion that this is his house. “What am I going to do? I lost this house in that game. I thought that they would have done something with it by now.”
“Guess those guys are smarter than they look, even they know a dump when they see one.”
“Yeah, but what am I to do about it? About the only way for me to get away from the mob is to die.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how I told you that I gambled some of my belongings? Well, this house wasn’t just that. I even bet them my loyalty. They won’t leave me alone. You have no idea what it’s like. I’ve killed a man… several actually.”
My jaw drops as I see this other side of a man that I had grown up with.
“I looked at all of their faces after they were killed. You have no idea the kind of things I have seen. I can’t take it! I just can’t!”
“I have an idea, but it will be a long shot, even if we do get a chance. What if I kill you? Not for real but a faked, death.” I say as I notice the wheels in Miles’ mind begin to turn. Could this possibly work? Could he be a free man again? “There might be a shot that this will not work.”
“I don’t care. Anything is better than going through any more.”
“Then, it’s settled. Tonight, you die.”
The night comes much faster than either of us can even comprehend. The whole day, my mind had raced about the events that had happened. Was it all just a dream of some sort? Did I really agree to kill my friend? Of course, it would be just a fake death, but is this sort of thing really even possible?
I turn the corner, and James’ Pub stands just before me. Seeing as James was a good friend of both of us, he decided he would lend a hand with things. As I enter the bar, the familiar smells hits me again, all too soon. James motions for me to come near him, as I spot him, putting things away for the evening.
“How come you’re closed tonight?” I ask as he puts away another glass.
“It’s Sunday. Bar is never open late on this night,” he says as he wipes the last of the glasses and sets it in its right compartment. “Believe Miles should be arriving any time now.”
I look around and spot a clock hanging up on the wall. The time says a quarter ‘til ten.
“No use lookin’ at that silly old thing. Thing hasn’t work since about a year or so ago. Don’t know why it’s still up there. Just is.”
The door opens from behind both of us, and in walks the former self of Miles. The man looks as if the devil himself came up to him and took his very ounce to live away. His shoes shlomp onto the wooden flooring, being filled with what seems like an over extensive amount of water.
“What the hell happened to the likes of you?”
I turn instantly around at the sound of James’ voice, having forgotten he was behind me.
“Some trouble found me on the way here. Even ran through a couple mud holes running from it. But let’s not worry ‘bout that. Let’s just hurry and get things over with.” The fear in Miles’ echo ran through both of us like the scratching of a chalkboard. Neither James nor I wanted to hear those words, but there they were, just being shoved into our faces.
I look to my left and see James pouring some drinks. Miles watches the glasses as though he hasn’t had a drink in several months. James finishes with what he is doing and hands each of us a glass.
“Here. God knows that we all need this right now.”
We all quickly down the drinks and turn things to the matter at hand. James and I both look at Miles, knowing what will happen next. Miles looks around not knowing exactly what to think. The drink seems to have put a slight better mood on his face. He no longer holds a look of despair and helplessness. Instead, it has been filled with nothing but good times. Still not knowing what is happening, the drink begins to take effect, and Miles falls hard to the floor, deader than road kill.
The next day, news spreads fast of the death of Miles. Those who knew him try figuring out what exactly could have caused the death. That day, I spent most of my time at James’ bar, trying to drink away everything. The very subject of the death sends my mind into a rage, just to come out with it, that he’s not dead! But the respect for Miles just seems to shout louder than my own thoughts. The day comes and goes with little problems at all. It isn’t until that night that the real problems begin to emerge.
Like most people during the time of sleep, the mind races like a horse after hearing a whip. What if he is dead? Is he still alive? Oh my lord, did I kill him? These things keep running over and over with no stop. And the morning sunlight hits me like a metal door. Next comes the realization that Miles’ funeral is today.
The very essence of sorrow begins to fill my being as the funeral session drudges on. The graveyard background invites the presence of the dead to just burst back up to the world above. I have to look back at Miles’ coffin just to make sure that the wooden box isn’t open.
The preacher rants on, saying something about how his death was a tragic one. And the whole time, I sit here, just thinking to myself, If only you knew, if only you knew.
The preacher motions for those who knew him to come toward the casket. Several people stand up to approach the casket. A few of them just brush by the coffin, not being able to look at it. The other part couldn’t stand to leave the side of the coffin. But eventually, everyone leaves, and everything is silent. The graves echo out with nothing but a creepy sensation. I know that I’m the only living thing to be seen around. But still that one thought, that things aren’t as dead as they appear pops up.
I look around to make sure that no one is around before I decide to do what for most is the impossible. I approach the coffin, still worried that someone will see. My very steps are filled with nothing but caution. Stopping right before the wooden box, I run my fingers over the surface. The cool wood feels smooth as if someone spent his whole life trying to perfect just this one simple thing. My hands grasp on, and I gently begin to push.
“Hey! You, sir! What are you doing here?”
I look around to see several large men approaching me. Without being noticed by the men, I cautiously try to fix the roof of the coffin.
“What are you still doing here, sir?”
“Paying my last respects.”
“You have to get out of here. We have to put this coffin where it needs to be.”
Giving one glance back at the men, I take a step back. One motion of my hands tells them to go ahead and bury the casket. Giving them plenty of room to do their job, I watch as the men grab Miles’ casket.
My mind starts back up with the questions: What are they doing? Where are they going? I thought you were just burying him.
The men heave the heavy piece over their shoulders and carry it away. I watch as the men move across the graveyard almost running to get the job done faster. Following to see what is happening, I watch with amazement as they head toward a mausoleum. This will be easier than digging him up, I guess, I think as they enter the small building shutting the door behind them. Thinking that Miles isn’t going anywhere, I walk off. I love how things have become so simple for me now.
My last few steps out of the graveyard, I look back, trying to figure the exact location for everything. It will be much harder to recognize things in the dead of night. Through the corner of my eye, I see the men come back out of the mausoleum. Each of them carries a small bag, slung over his back.
Probably just some old rags or something.
One of the men turns back to the building. He drops his bag to the ground, just near his feet and pulls something out of his pocket. He places the object on the door, walks away trying to catch up to the other men who have already headed on their way. The object that was placed on the door swings a little then comes to a complete stop. Casually, I walk up to the door, making sure that none of the men has looked back to see me.
As I get closer the object, I realize that it’s some sort of lock that I have never seen before. Its many elaborate designs make it seem like the one jewel found at the bottom of a coal mine.
Stepping back in horror, the realization that things just got hard again plays through my mind like the film used in the movies. Each holding its own picture, and when you put two or more together, they start to stack up, forming something new and more complex. And right now, I have added an entire movie to my film strip.
I arrive at James’ bar, my mind still flipping through the many strips of film.
“So how did things go?” James asks as he hands a man a drink.
“Hell, I’m not sure. One minute things are going just fine. Then, the next I know the entire world seems to be against my odds.”
“What do you mean by that? Wait! What happened?”
I recollect all the things that had happened within the last few past hours. “Where should I start? First off, it seems as though Miles is no longer going to be buried. Luckily for us, they put him in the mausoleum, just on the far end of the graveyard.”
“Well, that’s good for us then,” James says the statement like he had played it through his head a million times before, prepared for this exact moment.
“Not exactly. At first, I was thinking the exact same way you are right now, that it would save us the time from digging him up and then covering the hole. The men took Miles into the mausoleum, came out, and put a lock on the door.”
James’ jaw drops, and the smirk that he was holding on his face all but drops off. Nothing remains on his face except a clueless glare.
“If it were up to me, I’d go get him in a blaze of glory.”
James and I both look at the man who spoke. He holds his head down low and sends up a puff of smoke from his pipe.
“Like I said, I’d go with a blaze of glory. Some sticks of explosives would do some good.”
James looks at me, and we both get the same smug look on our faces. Then, the thought crosses my mind: Where are we going to get them? And once again, the look of despair spreads across my face.
James seems to be reading my mind because he disappears into his back room and within what seems like seconds comes back with a small crate. He hands it to me and goes back to his backroom.
I look in the crate, making sure I don’t overlook a single thing inside. I see two small sticks of what I believe to be packages of explosives. Along with the sticks is a small oil lantern. Sounds of people getting up and leaving interrupt my thoughts, and I look around. James has cleared the room. The only people who remain are he and I. He holds a coat in one hand and the other reaches out to help me up.
“Let’s go.”
Walking down the road, the thought of Why did James have this stuff? Pops up. That’s right! I practically hit myself, remembering the trip that he took almost two summers ago down to South Africa with his diamond hunting group. They had gone all the way down there and turned up not gaining a single sliver of precious minerals. He must have had this left over from all that time ago.
“Quickly get down!” James says as he pulls down on my arm, almost ripping it out of the socket.
“Shhh, listen,” I say as I sit on the solid pavement and listen. In the distance, I hear a couple of men talking. I strain to hear what they say.
“Did you do it?”
“Yes, Mr. Rossi. The body of that Miles character has been taken to the mausoleum, just as you have asked.”
“Good. You boys have done well. Are you sure that no one saw you take him into there?”
“Well, there was one man, but I don’t think he expected a single thing. I doubt he even still realizes that his friend is still alive.”
I turn to James. He has the exact same expression on his face that I do. Both of us try to ask the other how they found out, without making a sound. But we both subside with the typical shrug of the shoulders.
I hear the men start talking again. “Well, that’s a good thing, too. Poor Miles thought his little idea of faking death would fool me. Now first thing in the morning, I want you and your men to go to the building and properly kill him.”
“But boss, if we do that in the middle of the day, won’t someone hear the screams?”
“Don’t worry about it. Most people have already left their houses at that time of day.”
I feel a small jab in the side of my chest. James points for me to move slowly toward the other end of the street away from the group talking. Without making a single noise, we both get out of there and run toward the mausoleum where Miles is being held.
As we approach the graveyard, a sudden mist forms around our feet. With each step, the fog becomes thicker and thicker, to the point where seeing our hand from in front of our own face becomes a chore.
“This way,” James yells, trying to spot me through this thick fog.
I can’t spot the figure of James as we cross the ever-continuing site of the dead. But he calls out from the mist every so often, still giving me the security that he is still there.
“Here, I found it!”
I follow the voice, cautiously trying to step over the graves. But every once in a while, my foot hits a hard patch, and I know for a fact that I have just disgraced some dead person by stepping on his place of rest. I stick out my arms, knowing that I am getting extremely close. Then, I feel it. The cold cobble and marble of the building feels cool under the pulsing beats in my hands. Something grabs me, jumping up what seems like five feet into the air.
“Shush! If you scream, the dead will wake up. Now light the lantern and hold it so that I can see what I’m doing,” James instructs me.
I grab the lantern from him and hold it toward the way he was working with the sticks of explosives. James attaches one of the sticks to the hinges of the metal door. Pulling a match from his pocket, he strikes the marble wall and sets the match ablaze. Holding the wick in one hand and the match in the other, he touches the two together. Suddenly, the wick glows a deep orange.
“Step back!”
I quickly take several steps back, stepping on several gave stones, backing up. I cover my eyes with my arm and sleeve of my shirt, preparing for the blast. From the small portion of what I can see, the orange light gets higher and higher, and then there is nothing. I look up from my sleeve and drop my guard.
“What the he…?”
Suddenly, a large flash of white light surrounds the entire area. Dust fills the air, and my ears begin to ring. The burst of the blast itself had pushed me down, so by this point, I was sitting on the headstone of another random victim. Standing up, I dust myself off and look around for James.
“Forgot how powerful those things were. Guess we should have taken a few more steps back.”
“You think” was the only thing that came out of my mouth. James stepped inside, and I closely follow right behind. The blast had ripped a giant hole into the side of the building. I raise the lantern to get a better look around. I was expecting just a small room with a few coffins, after seeing as the outside looks only like about the size of a medium sized shack. But instead, to my amazement, there was not a single coffin to be seen. Instead, there was only a stairway that went down below.
James looks around, taking in his surroundings. Unlike him, he seems not to have the surprise that I had at this very moment. “Time to go down, do you think?”
“We may as well. That is what we came here for, wasn’t it? You are going to go first, right?”
“All right,” James says as he takes the lantern and proceeds to go down the long staircase to what seemed like nowhere.
James disappears down below, and I am left alone up top. As he sinks down lower, the light of the lantern follows quickly, bringing the darkness right behind it. Looking around one more time before the light completely is devoured, I follow behind him, going down the staircase to nowhere.
Descending down, it seems to go on forever. The light finally rests at a single level, and I realize that James has found the floor, not too long to go. A few more steps escape from under my feet, and I find myself touching solid ground again. The light has moved to the end of the room. I move toward it and see James, staring in awe. Looking around, I see why. Hundreds of coffins fill the room. Only small portions of the ground can be seen for which it was used to get around.
“How are we going to find him now?”
I look around once again, staring at the many caskets.
“I’m not sure. But the only thing that is coming to my mind is start opening them, one by one.”
James looks around and gets a look of disgust on his face. “Well, then… let’s… get started.”
Walking up to the first casket, strong scents of the decaying flesh hit me. Earlier, I was too far to get a good whiff of the bodies. My stomach churns as each step I draw nearer and nearer to the first one. Familiar smells of a dead animal flash through my mind. It wasn’t the smell at this point that was making my body curl in disgust. It was just the fact that it was made of the same materials, the same structure, and the same form of life as I was. I can’t stand to get any closer, but still I urge on. I stand right next to the large box. Taking in one last grasp of air, I gently lift the lid, hoping that whatever is inside would not lunge out at me.
The lid slips off the box and onto the floor below. Dust puffs up from the dirt floor. It clears out, and I stare at the one thing I am dreading to see. Placed in the coffin is
the decaying corpse of an older female. The dress that she wears has been torn and ripped from the many rats and mice which have visited her body in the previous months. Both arms are folded over her chest as though she was grasping at one time, something which has long since been turned into dust. Holes are seen through the remaining grey skin that still clings to her face. Small traces of white hair still are attached to the head.
A small upset of vomit slides up my throat. Not letting it get any farther than my throat, I swallow hard. The stench is even more revolting than ever before. I glance back at the woman one last time. In utter horror, a mouse pops out of the socket that was once used to contain her eyes. The hurling effect comes over me again. This time I dont even try to overcome it.
“Are you all right?”
I look around and notice that James is standing right next to me.
“Not exactly.”
“How many have you checked?”
Looking around, I see that he has already opened several caskets in the time that it has taken me to open only one.
“Just this one.”
“Oh! This is taking too long. We will never be able to find him before the sun comes up.”
Thud! Thud! Thud…
We both look around to see where the thudding is coming from. The thudding begins again. Both of us follow the sound and approach the coffin it is coming from. I glance over at him, and we both nod. Each of us grabs a side of the lid. Lifting at the same time, we lift the lid off and throw it to the floor.
“Miles!” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth. Finally, we have found what we are searching for. Miles jumps out of the casket.
“Holy hell! Someone blew off the door!”
The three of us look at each other. The three of us have heard the voice from above. I begin to panic, thinking of the men packing guns, all noticing the blown-off side of the upper half of the crypt. I look around, totally panicking over the situation. James and Miles have already gone to work devising a plan.
“Quickly! Open up three caskets. Put the bodies in another coffin then shut the lid. Then both of you get in one of the empty ones. I’ll do the same thing. Hurry!”
I shake my head in total protest to the statement.
“Think about the men upstairs with guns. If they see you, they will kill you. Now get in that coffin.”
I don’t say another word. Quickly, I open a casket and move the corpse in to another one of the opened ones and shut the lid. As I shut the lid, I hear the two bodies break as I shove the lid on. I don’t think another second about it. I place the lid on my own casket and slip inside. From inside, I struggle to pull the lid back over. My hands slip as I pull on the only notch in the wood that I can find and hold onto. It slides into place as I successfully get it in the right spot. Motionless, I sit there. Everything has gone quiet. What seems like several minutes goes by. Still total silence booms down on my ears, almost bursting them, trying to hear something.
“Look there! Someone was here. The lantern’s still hot.”
“Check Miles’ casket.”
Everything goes quiet again and then a loud thud. The ground shakes, causing the casket I’m in to rattle.
“He’s gone!”
“The people who blew open the door must have been here to get him out.”
The sound of an open hand hitting skin sounds as what seems like one of the men hitting the other. Most likely the one that said the last thing was hit by the other.
“Of course, that’s what happened, you idiot. Mr. Rossi is going to be mad.”
“But what if he doesn’t find out? What if we still say we killed him? How is he going to know? We’ll tell him that we did the job and call that the end of things.”
“I like the way you think.”
Light sounds of steps moving up the staircase fill my ears. I wait here staying as still as possible, just in case they decide to come back down. Many minutes go by; by this time, the men have to be halfway across town. But still, I wait.
Finally, I get the courage to open up the casket slightly. I lift it, just barely so that I can see a small portion of the room. Noticing that the coast was clear, I fully throw off the lid and step out.
James and Miles are already out of their caskets. Both of them turn quickly, hearing the thud of my lid hit the ground. As they turn to see me, they look relieved.
James starts to ascend up the stairs, and I closely follow. The bright light of the morning sun hits all three of us as we step into the light. Our eyes hurt as they adjust to the light after being in the dark for so long.
“Well, you two, I believe this is goodbye for me.”
I turn around as Miles steps directly out into the sun.
“I am going to have to leave this town. If any of the Rossi family notices me around town, that will be the end of me.”
“Where are you going to?”
“I think I’ll move east, maybe settle down in New York, I’ll have a family and quit this gambling thing.”
I approach Miles and extend my hand. He takes it, and we both shake, saying our goodbye.
That night, I take several baths to get rid of the smell of the corpses. No matter what I do, the smell still lingers. Several days go by, and the smell eventually subsides. Once again, I can travel back out into the world of the living.

full update! sorry its so long... alright no not sorry cause i think its good