Coffin Fodder Novels & Stories

“That widow must be something.” “That widow is a pain in my ass,” Nate growled. “The sooner we get her back to daddy, the happier I’ll be.” “I’m with you on that one,” Oliver said as he opened the door to their bunkhouse and held it for Nate to enter before him. A few lit candles on the table in the center of the rectangle bunkhouse was all the lighting provided for its occupants. The bunkhouse was one of three. Each bunkhouse offered twenty narrow beds. Some were positioned on top of the other and some were set up singly.

Inside the casket, I couldn't tell night from day. Hunger eventually stripped away what was left of my sanity. I bit at the wood and clawed at the lid over and over, desperate to tear my way out, until every single one of my fingernails ripped completely off my fingers. The already thinning oxygen grew heavy with a suffocating, putrid stench as my own waste started piling. I didn't know how many days had passed when I finally died in agony.

Its surface shimmered with intricate runes, forming a sinister array that exuded an eerie and oppressive aura. With a thunderous crack, the coffin lid flipped open, and a chilling black shadow shot out, transforming into a venomous serpent lunging at Chase. Chase scoffed while swiping his palm. The shadow dissipated instantly under the force of his strike. A pained wail echoed from within the coffin. Marais' heart sank. The Phantom Coffin was his masterpiece that had consumed years of effort, yet it was now utterly destroyed. "You little bastard!" he bellowed in fury.

"Open it." The coffin actually had five nested boxes—one inside the other. Four outer shells had already been opened; only the innermost part remained sealed. Emily, concerned that Arabella might be scared, gently held her hand and whispered, "Don't worry, the dead are not scary, unlike the zombies in movies." Arabella nodded and replied quietly, "Please, I need to concentrate." "Go for it, dear!" Emily cheered. As the workers opened the coffin, the remains of a desiccated skeleton were revealed. Fragments of silk clothing still clung to the bones, more or less well-preserved. In the impact of oxygen, the vibrant pigments gradually faded before their eyes.

Both Kate and Daniel had done far worse to secure their lives than throwing used tampons in a cheats grave or was the planking out of the rib more cruel? I drove to the prison and collected the items she wanted me to toss in and, precisely at midnight, I found myself digging up a stranger’s grave. The earth was tough, but my time in the prison gym and sheer determination pushed me through until I finally struck the coffin. That was after two grueling hours, I was filthy, drained, and the foul odor seeped through my two face masks. To my shock, the coffin was intact and appeared to be made of metal. I gave it a cautious tap.

my eyes landed on a small inscription on the coffin. I quickly squat and then I read the inscription slowly. Since the coffin seems to be old I find it difficult.... but still I read something that seems more like... Forcing my eyes to read in the dark, I finally picture the statement which says M-A-T-E! "Mate?" I uttered out, not knowing what was ahead of me. The coffin automatically opens on its own, and a skeleton jumps out of it, as it places its mouth on my neck, and suck my blood.

After that, he took his cell phone back from Zayne’s hand before he turned around and left. Zayne wiped a handful of cold sweat from his forehead. After that, he immediately took out his satellite phone and called Porter, who was far away in Eastcliff. At this time, Porter was in the Porter family’s old family mansion, and he was looking at the dozens of cheap coffins that were piled up in the courtyard with great satisfaction. Each of these coffins was made out of thin and rotten broken wooden boards that had been put together. Although the coffin’s entire body was already painted with extremely poor-quality red paint, seams and gaps on the coffin board, which could fit a dollar coin, could

“Something I believe you’ll find... very interesting.” He gestured to the second wagon, still concealed beneath a heavy black tarp. From where he stood, Triston narrowed his eyes, his stance rigid, every muscle tense. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of iron and something foul—something old. The tarp was yanked back and in there, nestled in the center of the wagon, was a black coffin—ancient, worn, and bound in silver latches. Its surface shimmered faintly under the morning light, revealing an inscription carved in fading gold. Triston's brows furrowed. He didn’t recognize it at first. The distance blurred the words, and his heart beat harder with unease. Until Reyes leaned closer to the

The better to blend with shadows. On his feet were laced Nikes, all the better to run in. Because pockets weren't exactly plentiful-and ruined the line of his suit-he tossed his wallet, phone, and keys inside the trunk for his car. But before he shut the lid, he leaned in to grab an ornate box. Less box and more a coffin for ashes. Roderick's ashes. No matter how many times he did this over the years, the thought of what he had to do wasn't any more palatable. He flipped the lid and grimaced. The gray, ashy contents exuded a burned-pork-roast aroma. When human, he'd preferred beef.

Nadine covered her mouth, feeling a tingle on her scalp and cold sweat trickling down her back. Perhaps the coffin had shocked her nerves with its tremendous impact that her legs trembled profusely and gave way. Under the light, the glass coffin was revealed to contain a corpse, one that was drying up. “What’s a coffin doing in here?” Adrian frowned and snapped a photo of it. Nadine, who stood next to him, was stunned. The floor beneath her, including her high heels, was already drenched.