Coffin Undertaker Novels & Stories

He took the food and water that had been placed in the coffin, then said casually, "You're going to die anyway, so there's no point wasting these on you. I'll leave the oxygen tank, though. I want you to last a few more days. It's just a shame you won't be able to make it to our wedding." The lid slammed shut again, swallowing the last sliver of light. I dug my fingertips deep into the rough wooden boards, pressing so hard that my fingernails felt ready to snap off. But my strength had drained out of me. My eyelids grew unbearably heavy, and I blacked out. When I finally came to, I was greeted by a cacophony of voices from the outside world. My funeral had begun. Guests were mingling, exchan

I rested my protest and let William talk with the priest. When he finished, William and I drove to the cemetery, and just like in the church, there were few people there. As we got down and approach them, I saw there was a hole already dug and the undertakers were beside the coffin. William took my hand and led me to where the priest was and after a while of the sermon, he says. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.” And as he said this, the undertakers lowered the coffin into the hole.

The same grave he swore she wasn’t dead in. The diggers work fast, mercenaries I’ve hired under fake names, paid in crypto and silence. The soil gives way easily, too easily for something meant to have rested undisturbed for over a decade. When the spade strikes metal, I feel it in my bones. “Stop,” I say. The men step back. I climb down, mud pulling at my boots. My gloves scrape against the surface of a steel coffin, modern, industrial, nothing like the ornate box in the burial photos. Someone changed it.

After he spoke, he waved, and several strong men carried a coffin into the lobby. “Put it down.” The subordinates placed the pitch-black coffin in the lobby. Jeremy patted the coffin and said, “Sorry, I came here in a hurry, so I didn’t have time to prepare. I only brought a coffin.” He pointed at Thomas. “This coffin is for you, Thomas.” Then, he looked around at everyone and said viciously, “But don’t worry. I’ll take note of everyone present and arrange a coffin for each of you. I promise that you’ll have a place to sleep after you die.”

Only then did the undertaker snap back to reality and release Eugene's hand. "Ah, I'm sorry. I'm a bit out of it right now... I'll be going now." The undertaker bowed his head and hurriedly disappeared outside the room. His behavior was oddly flustered. "You seem to be close with the undertaker." Eugene asked, staring at the door through which the undertaker had disappeared. "He's the florist and undertaker used by the New York families. We have to be close." Luca Datero said that much, then added with a smiling eyes:

Coffin sounded confused. "But I'm not bearing with that family of three!" Caleb growled through his teeth. "Little mistakes can lead to huge blunders, y'know," the Coffin argued, still being reasonable. Caleb kept growling through his teeth, "Oh, but they threatened me! And I will use you to bury anyone who dares threaten me! Why else are you called the Coffin of the Gods? I will first bury humans, and then immortals, and then the world!"

My boy’s name etched in stone, sharp and final, the cruelest reminder of what I lost. My throat tightens. My hands twitch at my sides, aching to grip Martin’s shoulder, to lean on him just once. But I don’t. A Creed doesn’t fold in public, not even at a graveyard. The ground groans as the coffin breaks through the earth, hauled up by grim-faced men who avoid my eyes. They lower it down, rough, so close I could touch it. The sound reverberates in my chest like a drumbeat of doom. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek. My jaw aches. I will not cry. Not yet.

I gave it a cautious tap. That lunatic had buried him in metal to safeguard the money. I geared myself up for the stench, I opened it, but the smell was overwhelming, and I couldn’t hold back. I had to puke several times. This was what she wanted, to desecrate his final resting place. But I needed to leave now. Gathering my composure, I searched through the coffin for a bag, a container, anything, but found nothing. That crazy woman! She never provided specifics.

I added, looking at the coffin with a shock expression on my face. Suddenly, I felt cold. My hands were shaking too. Whoever sent that thing thought it was a joke, but it wasn't funny at all. "We certainly had the right address, Ma'am." replied the man. "We are informed that Mrs. Alexandria Alexander died. The coffin was for her." The man added with a shrug that soon made me suspicious of him. He had no white-collar worker vibe in him, nor was he even wearing a company uniform. Turning my hand into a ball, I gritted my teeth. "I order you to remove the thing out the door. please." I told him in the calmest voice I could muster.

I sat in stunned silence while I watched Larry do his best to keep his emotions in check while he handled the situation in a professional manner. To add to my misery, the creepy undertaker, Zacharias Bolt, was called upon to take Max’s body directly to his funeral home. Although I wasn’t thrilled to have to see the arrogant undertaker again, I was thankful that he was willing to get out of bed at such an early hour to fetch Max’s corpse. I was the official coroner and I’d witnessed Max’s murder, so Larry saw no reason to ask for an autopsy. I readily agreed with his decision.