Coffin Undertaker Novels & Stories

He clutched the dead rooster tightly and shouted, "Boy, whatever happens, don't come out. And don't make a sound! Trust me!" I nodded so hard my neck hurt. My grandfather was the only funeral director in town, the man people called whenever there was a death. My grandfather was the town's undertaker, the man everyone called when there was a funeral to arrange. What most people didn't know was that the older folks had another name for men in his line of work. They called them keepers of the dead. A loud thud soon echoed from the front gate. Then another, and another. It sounded as though something was ramming its head against the door.

Quincy knocked on the door and called out, "Is anyone home?" Soon, a middle-aged man with a limp appeared. Caitlin recognized him immediately from the photo she had seen at the funeral home, but the man now looked completely different. His clothes were torn, his beard untamed, and he had the air of someone who had fallen from grace. "Who are you?" Gavin croaked, his voice hoarse. "We’re here to ask you about a matter," Quincy replied. "Two years ago, you worked as an embalmer at the third mortuary, correct?"

"Once it's dark, I'll come out, and when you see me, you'll understand the situation. I've had this condition for 23 years, but I still look like I'm 15." That angered Cynthia. They were all disciples of Rowan Keating and had seen all sorts of illnesses. So, she proudly said, "The black coffin is used to raise corpses. If someone needs to stay in a black coffin due to illness, as far as I know, it can only be someone afflicted with intestinal parasite infestation."

The groundskeeper said nothing. My father had picked out a beautiful coffin for Selena. It was almost a cherry red color, with ornate edges and a delicate wreath of flowers on the top. I had only been to a couple of funerals in my life, but it was always shocking how small the coffins could be. Selena’s was especially small, seeing as how petite she was. If I had died alone with her, there would have been two small coffins.

The world was not ready for him though and it was also a strategy. The Pol bearers dropped the expensive shiny coffin on the U-cross coffin lowering device. It was Bishop Sherwood's turn. Last time the Richards buried someone he was just a pastor. He said a few words, the usual words of encouragement then the coffin was lowered slowly. The church choir sang the sad farewell music and the family members broke into tears that mixed with the rain, the guards had a hard time preventing them from falling in the grave. When the coffin hit the basement Bishop Emmanuel raised his arm, all the singing stopped but the sniffling and crying didn't.

Below is the tragic story of what happened to the Arnulphy family. That faithful day the jolly family was on their way to the monthly field trip, singing to various songs, eating snacks to their heart's content, and sharing pure laughter. Etienne was only 5 years old at that time. His dad was the owner of a large enterprise known as THT Corporation that sold and supplied construction goods and services to various parts of the world. His mother was a social worker in a children's home of pediatric cancer patients. Singing loudly and with so much joy. Suddenly....their car lost control.

Tears flowed out of her eyes as she looked at Alex and said, "Is there any hope of her coming back to life?" Alex nodded. "I promise. Anna will come back one day." The only thing was, he was not very sure how long it would take. At least, this gave Anna's closest relative a hope to look forward to. *** After the Coleman family finished paying their last respect, Alex retrieved the Soul Gathering Coffin. The length of the Soul Gathering Coffin was more than three meters long and one meter wide, with a variety of strange runic patterns carved on the outside. Despite seeing that Alex could fit this coffin into his eyebrows, everyone still felt this feat was incredible once again.

The funeral drew every major name in the underworld. Everyone came in tailored black suits, their faces solemn, except me. Beneath my black trench coat, I wore a dress the color of fresh blood. Whispers followed me as I walked past the crowd, commenting that I had no sense of decorum. However, I didn’t care. This wasn’t just a funeral. It was my coronation. I stood before the headstone and watched as the massive black walnut coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. Inside that coffin wasn’t just Luca. Buried with him were six years of my youth and a love I had once been foolish enough to believe in.

Kendrick staggered into the Lawson family's funeral hall just as the refrigeration unit on the coffin gave off a dull hum. I was lying in the refrigerated coffin beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, wearing the exact red dress he loved best.

Dark glasses hid the redness in my eyes or maybe what wasn’t there. A priest stood by the polished mahogany coffin as Sterling gave a short speech, voice steady but lifeless. He spoke of Cassain’s brilliance, his ambition, his legacy. Cameras clicked quietly from a distance despite the “no press” restriction. When they began to lower the coffin, the drizzle finally started, light, cold, merciless. The sound of shovels hitting wet soil was the only thing I could hear. As the coffin disappeared beneath layers of earth, a hollow ache spread through me. I wondered, what is the point of all this?