Hide-n-Go Coffin
and Other Short Stories
By
M.J.A. Ware
DIGITAL EDITION v1.0b
PUBLISHED BY: CG Press LTD. at SmashWords
Copyright © 2010, 2011 by M.J.A. Ware
Cover Art © 20011 – Ronnell D. Porter
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of any product referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Table of Contents
Hide-n-Go-Coffin
Brother's Keeper
Grandpa's Suits
About the Author
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Hide-n-Go-Coffin
"How'd you get the keys to this place?" I asked, looking up at the huge stone mausoleum standing in the middle of the cemetery. The full moon coated the entire graveyard with an eerie glow.
"Quiet, Jason. I told you, you're only allowed to speak when spoken to." All big sisters are pains, but Jenny could be downright cruel. Like tonight: Halloween was half over and I hadn't even gotten a single piece of candy.
We'd just moved to a new town. Mom gave me the option to go trick-or-treating with Jenny, or stay home and pass out candy. I would have stayed home, except Jenny begged me not to go. Said I'd embarrass her in front of her new friends. So of course, I went.
"Lance and Ted's dad works at the mortuary. He's got keys for everything," Lindsey said. She was dressed as a cave girl, her long blonde hair held up by a plastic bone. She was Jenny's one nice friend. The rest of them were jerks.
"Dad says this place is haunted," Ted said.
Ted and his brother, Lance, were twins. I could only tell them apart because Lance was a little overweight and his blonde hair was already starting to thin.
The two of them didn't even bother to wear costumes. They'd just pasted on little devil horns and carried plastic pitchforks, which they kept poking the girls with every time one of them turned around. If I were just a little older, I'd have broken those stupid pitchforks over their empty heads.
The huge steel doors yawned a high-pitched creak as they slid open.
We all piled into the cold and silent building. Our flashlights danced around the barren walls. It was slightly less scary than the graveyard.
"What exactly is this place, anyway?" Lindsey asked, with tension in her voice.
Two stone caskets were against either of the side walls and a metal one sat in the middle of the room. Some dusty boxes stood stacked in the corners.
"They use it for storage," Ted said.
"Old man Jones built this place for himself and his family. He wanted them to be buried together." Lance, trying to sound like a creepy old dude, held his flashlight under his chin so it cast long shadows on his face. "But one day his son disappeared. Drowned in Black Rock River, they said. But they never found a body. Jones wouldn't believe his son drowned. Kept insisting that one day he'd return. His will said if his son should ever turn up, they should bury him right in this coffin here." He pointed to the gray metal coffin in the center of the room resting on a marble pedestal.
"Alive?" asked Jenny.
"No, once he died, silly," said Ted. "Anyway, that was like fifty years ago. He's not turning up now."
"But legend says that old man Jones will settle for anyone who's foolish enough to hang around here on Halloween night," Lance said.
"Why Halloween night?" I asked, not buying any of it.
"Well, um... because that's the night old man Jones' son disappeared."
"So he was swimming at night?"
"Hey, he could have been skinny dipping," said Ted, as he pulled out a six-pack from inside the coffin.
"Bet you don't believe in ghosts though, huh?" asked Lance.
"Not one as lame as that," I said.
"Okay, I'll prove it." he pointed to the coffin. "Hop in."
"Eww, gross," said Lindsey.
"Lance and I used to play hide-n-go-coffin all the time."
"Yeah, you never know who you'd find inside," Lance added.
"Jason's afraid of his own shadow. He'd never let you stick him in there," Jenny said.
"I am not," I protested.
"Here's your chance to prove it." Lance opened the lid.
"Come on guys, you're scaring him." Lindsey looked at me like I was some lost little puppy.
"No, it's fine, I'll do it. But I want that big bag of candy from your front seat."
"Deal. Stay in there for five minutes and it's yours." Lance patted the coffin's pillow.
Taking off my mask, I climbed into the coffin and slowly laid back. Except for the cold spot where the beer had been, it was actually pretty comfy inside.
"Bye bye," Lance said as he slammed the top shut.
"Be back in five minutes," Ted said, sounding muffled.
The door creaked as they left, probably to go drink. Jenny was in for a surprise if she thought I wasn't going to tell Mom about all this.
It was really dark. I pulled out my phone and started playing Pac-man.
It was more like fifteen minutes. But soon, I heard the mausoleum door squeak open.
"Time’s up," one of the brothers said. The coffin moved slightly.
"Ted, it's stuck. Help me open it."
A second later, the thing jerked back and forth a couple times.
"Come on, guys, this isn't funny," I said.
"Knock it off and let him out," my sister said.
"We're serious, it's stuck."
"Isn't there a latch or something?" I yelled.
"What, a latch? No, it should just open."
"Get him out of there now!" my sister yelled. I was getting a little nervous, but for once, it seemed, Jenny had my back.
"Come on, let's go back to the van and get a crowbar."
"Jason, we'll hurry back," Lindsey said.
"I'll be right here." I tried to sound brave.
They must have thought it was funny to leave me in there, because a good couple of hours passed. I didn't realize how long it'd been until my phone died. Now I was starting to panic.
"Guys?" I called. "Jenny, let me out of here!"
I hollered and pounded on the lid for a couple of minutes, hoping they'd hear me. Soon it became apparent they'd left. Jenny was going to be in so much trouble when Mom found out.
It was up to me to get myself out. Jerking my upper body back and forth, I managed to move the coffin a little. I slammed my back into the side several times. The coffin shifted slightly more.
I kept at it, moving it little by little. Until, like a teeter-totter, the weight shifted and it fell.
That did it. There was a loud crack and the top popped. Ripping it open, I jumped out.
It was really dark. I couldn't
see a thing, except a very faint light coming from the crack between the doors. I slowly made my way over.
I felt around until I found the handle and turned it. The door was locked. They'd locked me in. Lance and Ted were more than cruel; they were sadistic.
I pounded on the doors, hoping someone would hear. No one came, but the doors felt weak. I kicked the small gap between them. For a second, more light broke in. The lock must have been rusty.
I kept kicking and kicking until my leg hurt. Then I kicked with the other leg. Finally, I put my shoulder into it and the doors gave way. Flying out, I landed on my back, looking out on a sky filled with clouds and a sliver of moon.
I stood up. Everything was much darker than when we’d gone in.
I could barely see as I walked through the cemetery. Each step I was sure some ghost or ghoul waited to reach up and grab me as I passed over its grave.
Several times I stumbled, and had to grab hold of a tombstone to keep from falling.
Finally, I made it to the wrought-iron front gates. I didn't even bother to yell for help. I just climbed over.
It wasn't that far to my house. But the streets looked different. With my phone dead, I didn't know what time it was, but it must have been late—no one was out.
Thick clouds obscured what little light the moon cast. The houses all seemed grayer, older. The trees large and menacing, like they'd grown overnight.
Finally, I got to my house. Mom hadn't gotten me my own set of keys yet, so I knocked on the door.
A minute later, it opened and a really old, bald guy appeared, his shirt barely covering his beer gut. "Kid, we ran out of candy hours ago; get home before your parents call the cops."
"Umm, does Cathy Baker live here?" I said, thinking maybe I'd gone to the wrong house.
"What'd you say?"
He opened the door wider and took a step out. Behind him, I could see this huge TV set taking up the entire wall. It must have been HD or something, ’cause it looked 3D.
"Look. I don't know what you're trying to pull, but Cathy Baker's been dead almost ten years." He towered over me menacingly. He wasn't joking around.
I didn't know what to say.
"Lance, who's at the door?" I heard Jenny's voice. She sounded tired or sick, but it was her.
"It's just some punk kid playing a Halloween prank."
"Jenny? Jenny, it's me! Where's Mom?" I pleaded desperately.
"What? Lance, who is that?" A dish or something broke inside the house and a shadow approached the door.
"No, it can't be." The old guy dropped his beer, looking closely at me, shaking his head. "The casket was empty."
She stepped into the light. There stood my sister—old, wrinkled, and decrepit.
"Aaaaah!" We both screamed in chorus.