Although it was dark in the room but the moonlight did glimmer on the smooth surface of the brown coats of the coffins. There were six coffins; five brown and one black.
There was no question of opening the dead tombs of people I didn't know. I wanted to go back to the corridor and wait for Mark. Graveyard always creep me out and I room full of unburied coffins was no better. I lifted my head, breathed heavily and turned my head at the back.
Cerberus looked straight at me. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were enchanting and fierce at the same time. I was entangled in his stare. His face was innocent and rouge and his expressions were damned. I was thrilled and continued staring at him. In a flicker of a second, Cerberus pointed his snout at one of the switches beside the door handle. I helped him switch it on as his height, even being quite a big hound, was not enough to reach the socket.
Light spread in the room. It was dim but visible. I could see the water dripping from a
pipe which made a very irritating noise. There was only one window present whose
presence felt negligible as I had started feeling claustrophobic over my own horrors. As I stepped ahead, my boots made some echoing noises. I breathed heavily.
Cerberus was pushing me towards the middle of the coffins. I eyed him dreadfully and hoped he doesn't want me embarking upon one of those coffins.
But then I read the names on the coffins. Bertha, Paul, Amelia, Atlanta and then
Samirah. I stopped dead in front of Samirah's smooth black coffin. On the tomb, in gold letters was written 'Samirah Fatima Ali'.
I forgot to breathe, think, wish, pray, feel or even move. Samirah. The girl he wrote the letter to . She can't be the same girl. She can't be dead. It just can't happen. I know it was shocking but it was more than a heart ache. I was not a frequent fainter but I would have been. I would have fainted right in the middle of six coffins.
I gained courage and touched the coffin. Surprisingly, it didn't give me a shiver
downtown. Rather it was familiar. Strangely familiar. Just like Mark. Suddenly, I had an
urge to open the coffin. I know it's wrong. I know, my reader, you are screaming out
not to do it. But I wanted to see her. There were a hundred questions in my head. I was flabbergasted and wide-eyed at the same time.
My hands trembled when I started pulling the lid of the coffin. As I was opening the
black matte colored lid, I saw a tinge of black shoes with camouflage pants. My eyes
refused to blink as the lid slowly disclosed the legs, hands on top of each other on a
well-built torso, delicate neck and an unbelievable face. Same eyebrows, same face
shape, same triangular nose, same dark hair, and same pout of lips. She had the same face as me! I could not believe such a coincidence. My legs gave in and I fell on the cold surface of the marble floor. I was screaming inside. Even the meager amount of air entering in my lungs stopped when I was on the brim of unconsciousness when I heard,
"I see you have met Samirah."