#DeadTogether

I haven't updated this blog in literal years, and I haven't written a story in even longer.  I was recently inspired by the spooky season to write a little something once again. Please enjoy my short story, #DeadTogether. Excuse any errors, I've been exhausted lately. 

#DeadTogether by Wren, also known as Caleb Andrews.

#DEADTOGETHER 

In the distance, waves crash on an empty beach. The sun is setting, and the sound of seagulls calling to each other fills the air. Gentle instrumental music fades in. The melody is a bit melancholy, but not sad.

Cut to a young couple on their honeymoon. They stand on their hotel's balcony, holding hands as the breeze ruffles the woman's wavy, chestnut brown hair. She pushes it out of her face, and the audience catches a glimpse of her diamond studded wedding ring as the fading sunlight catches it.

Her new husband, a handsome man in a white button up shirt, reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips. She smiles.

Cue narrator. The faceless, serene voice of an American woman speaks.

"They say your wedding day is the best day of your life. Those beautiful words, "til death do us part", bring tears to the eyes of family and friends around the world".

Cut to new scene. A hospital room. The husband is laying in a hospital bed, sickly pale. Machines beep. The wife holds a tissue to her red eyes. She nods at a young nurse who speaks to her in hushed tones.

"In the bad times-"

Cut to new scene. The man is now healthy, slightly older. He and the woman each raise a champagne glass and toast numerous friends and family on a warm, sunny day. Everyone is smiling. In the background we see a banner that says, 'Happy 10th Anniversary", strung across the railing of an outdoor deck.

"-and in the good times, we cling to love, until the end. But what if we don't need to be apart, even in death?"

The music shifts to a generic, instrumental upbeat rhythm.

“Introducing Never Shall We Part! The new two-person coffin that ensures that even in death, you'll never be separated from your nearest and dearest.”

On the screen, a large, wooden coffin appears on a plain, light green background. The coffin is photo-shopped in, and the camera zooms in on the 3D rendered image. As the narrator describes the features of the item, the audience is provided with various angles of the large coffin.

“Double-wide, sturdy, and just as beautiful as a traditional coffin, you can be buried next to your spouse, partner, best friend, or sibling with no hassle!”

The images shift. An elderly couple appears on the screen, speaking with a young woman wearing a fashionable, navy blue business suit. They smile, and the camera zooms in on two white, wrinkled hands clasped together and resting on an oak wood table. One hand gently squeezes the other. The other squeezes back.

The narrator continues.

“At Never Shall We Part, we will take care of your deceased loved ones, holding them at one of our secure, accredited facilities until you pass away as well. Our storage facilities make a lovely and dignified home for your family and friends until your planned co-burial.”

The camera pans to footage of a large, industrial building. The cement is a grayish brown colour; the building appears practical, but not uninviting. The scene cuts to a smiling, well-dressed employee in a polo shirt. She speaks, confident. “Here at Never Shall We Part, we ensure that your loved ones are safely held with dignity, respect, and the highest degree of security.”

The audience is provided with footage of a large, industrial refrigeration chamber. Gleaming, metal doors, like those in a hospital morgue, line the walls. The image of security cameras in all four corners of the room flash on screen, one by one.

“Listen to what our satisfied customers are saying. No need to take our word for it.”

A middle-aged woman appears on the screen. She has a mid-length, blond haircut. She’s wearing a light blue blouse that matches her sky-blue eyes. She speaks. “When Darryl was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer, my whole world came crashing down.” 

She wipes away a tear. At the bottom of the screen, she is identified only as Brenda, age 56. Photographs of Brenda with a smiling man, posing on a forested hillside, flash across the screen one by one. “With Never Shall We Part, I feel comforted in the fact that not only will we be buried next to each other, but we can literally be holding hands when the time comes.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “Thank you so much for this opportunity. It truly has brought me a lot of peace. Knowing that no matter what happens, I'll be with my Darryl again someday, is priceless.”

Stock images flash across the screen, one smiling family photo after another. “We offer complimentary grief counselling to all of our customers.” We see a woman crying into a tissue while a tall, lanky man in khakis and a button-up shirt reaches across a desk to pat her hand.

 “We are willing to collaborate with your place of worship, funeral venue, and cemetery to ensure your perfect and peaceful transition when the time comes. Call now for pricing, payment plans, and more information. Never Shall We Part, supporting you, your family, and your loved ones through life and death’s toughest challenges.”

***

“Momma! Can we have pancakes for breakfast today?” Sylvia, David’s six-year-old daughter, rushed into the kitchen. She wrapped her little arms around her mother’s legs. “Please?”

David chuckled from his seat at the kitchen table. Sylvia made puppy-dog eyes up at his wife, Priya, who was preparing their breakfast. The eggs on the stove were decidedly not pancakes. “Kiddo, maybe tomorrow. Momma’s making delicious eggs and toast for us today.”

“Aw.” Sylvia pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. In her pink pajamas and her messy, dark hair, David couldn’t help but let another laugh out. Sylvia wasn’t really a brat, but she sure loved to present some attitude every now and then. She crossed her arms. “Fine. Promise, Momma? Pancakes tomorrow? Please?”

Priya reached over and ruffled their daughter’s hair. Sylvia’s eyes lit up when Priya sighed. “Yes, my love. Now, go wash your hands, ok?”

Sylvia practically hopped to the bathroom, her excitement for tomorrow’s theoretical breakfast already making her day a great one. David closed his eyes and took a moment to thank whatever higher power may exist for his family. Thank you so much for all You’ve given me.

The small television in the far corner of the kitchen switched from the morning news to commercial break. David scoffed at the ad as he folded up his newspaper. “I don’t know what genius came up with that idea. What kind of weirdo wants to rot next to their partner? I mean it's one thing to want to be buried next to each other, but to physically share a coffin? What kind of freak-”

Sylvia stood in the kitchen doorway and gasped dramatically. “Daddy! That’s so mean! Susan at church said that Jesus said we aren’t supposed to judge each other. Right, Momma?”

Priya glanced slyly at David with her chocolate-brown eyes, her long, black braid swinging around her hips as she turned her head to her husband. “That’s right, Sylvia. David?”

David raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just think it’s weird, that’s all.”

Sylvia practically leapt into the chair next to David, grabbing hold of his arm with her little fingers. “Well, I don’t think it’s weird. I love you and Momma so much. When I die, I want to be buried with you both.”

As the sun continued to rise outside the kitchen window, David wrapped his arms around Sylvia. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

***

The lunch bell rang, shrill and angry. Shawn thought it sounded like a raging Irish banshee, ready to sentence any poor soul in the vicinity to certain death. He followed his classmates into the hallways, narrowly avoiding being pushed over by a group of rowdy jocks taking up the entirety of the width of the hallway. Shawn muttered under his breath as he made his way to his locker.

He met up with Jamie and George in the bleachers by the football field, where they always ate lunch together, given that it wasn’t pouring rain or freezing outside. It was sweater weather, late September, but not cold enough to give up yet. He spotted the two boys already sitting and huddled together around a phone.

“Hey.” Shawn slid next to Jamie. “What are we looking at?”

Jamie swiveled and grinned at Shawn. “Check it out. Videos about that weird coffin thing that my sister got for the promo are going viral.” His blond hair partially covered his left eye, and he absent-mindedly pushed it out of the way. While all three boys were in their senior year, Jamie somehow looked both comically boyish and like a college sophomore. He had a baby-face stubbled with beard growth, while George and Shawn couldn’t grow beards no matter how hard they tried – or wished they could.

Shawn took the smartphone from his friend and scrolled through video after video of influencer and TikTok-nobody filming emotional, stupid, or seemingly pointless videos with the double-wide coffin. Shawn looked at the hashtag in the search bar and snorted.

 “#DeadTogether? The hell?”

“I know, right?” Jamie snatched his phone back. “Jane says the rep she’s been speaking with about the promo video told her she absolutely cannot use that hashtag for her video. Apparently the company thinks it’s too morbid, or something. They’re trying to promote #NeverShallWePart instead.”

George shook his head. “Good fucking luck.” His acne-covered face gleamed with sweat. He probably had just come from gym period and hadn’t showered. George was handsome, but struggling through his last years of teenage boy-hood with all the maladies he’d skipped out on in his tween years, complete with copious amounts of Axe body spray.

Gross, Shawn thought. “That’s freaky.”

“Dude, Jane has to make one of these cheesy-ass vids where she’s gifting the coffin to Colin.” Jamie scrolled through the videos, the first few nanoseconds of sound from each video created a strange, cacophonous music. “I think this shit is funny, though. Check it out.”

Shawn leaned in. On the screen, a boy about their age put a finger to his lips as he closed the coffin lid on himself. A second camera provided an angle of his living room. Two adults – presumably his parents – walked in and halted at the sight of the dark gray-brown coffin in the middle of their Persian rug.

Then-

“Ah! I want to suck your blood!” The boy flung the coffin lid open as his parents screamed. His exaggerated movie-villain, evil cackles were accompanied by organ music and thunderous sound effects.

George and Jamie burst into laughter. Shawn grinned; he couldn’t help it. It was stupid, but it was funny.

“Oh, man.” Jamie wiped a tear from his cheek. “Dude, we should make our own video. Maybe we could go viral. Imagine if I got more followers than Jane? She’d be pissed.”

“Yes!” The bell signaling five minutes to the end of lunch rang. Shawn swung off the bleachers. “Text me if you want to hang after class, ok?”

“Sure thing.” George and Jamie waved. Neither made a move to follow Shawn into the school.

***

David disliked working in this part of downtown Kingston. It was a strange spot – not very populated around 7 pm, except for a few stragglers, or people who had nowhere else to be. This usually didn’t matter, but today his 9 to 5 turned into a 9 to 6 and then a 9 to 7. He’d texted Priya not to wait up for him, and to expect him home around 7:30. She’d told him it was fine, but he still felt guilty. He adored family dinner time. He loved listening to Priya talking about her own day at work, while Sylvia spun stories about meeting fairies and elves at recess. He smiled at the thought.

It was eerily silent as he walked the almost-deserted street. As he passed an alleyway, a teenage boy beckoned and called to him. “Mister? I really need your help.”

David stopped. The boy looked young, with a baby face that screamed 14, but the shadow of a beard that screamed 17. He was wearing a gray hoodie and dark joggers. “Hey kid, what’s up?”

“I lost my phone, and my mom is probably wondering where I am. I was supposed to be home an hour ago, but I lost track of time. Can you call her for me?” The boy added, “please?”

Usually, alarm bells would be sounding in David’s head. He’d heard of scams where thieves would ask to borrow a phone, then run off with it. This boy hadn’t requested he hand over his cell, though. David felt a pang for the kid’s mom. Someday, Sylvia would be a teenager too.

“Of course!” David took a few steps into the alleyway, just enough to clear the sidewalk for any theoretical pedestrians. He pulled out his cell. “What’s her-”

He never got to finish his sentence. A hand covered his mouth and nose, and the world went black.

George grunted as David went limp in his arms. “Jamie, a little help here?”

Jamie rushed over and hooked his arm under the man’s right armpit. George took the left. “Shit dude. He’s heavy as hell.”

George and Jamie quickly dragged David to Jamie’s truck, parked in the back of the alleyway. 

The Never Shall We Part coffin was sitting open, awaiting two corpses patiently. They slid David into the coffin and closed the lid.

“Okay, and you’re sure that your dad won’t be at the funeral home?” Jamie asked as he and George hauled themselves into the front of the dark blue pickup.

“I’m positive. And so long as we bring her back before tomorrow morning, he’ll never notice she was missing. There’re no relatives, friends anyone claiming her.” George assured Jamie. “The police don’t even give a shit.”

“And you’re sure she’s still there?” They drove off.

“One unclaimed lady corpse coming right up.”

***

“Hey guys.” Shawn slid into the backseat of Jamie’s truck. Shawn envied Jamie. With rich parents, he could’ve had his own pickup, or maybe even a Mercedes, like Jane. Instead, he got his parent’s old hand-me-down minivan. He tried not to resent Jamie for his family’s wealth, but it was hard sometimes.

“Are you ready?” Jamie turned his head to look into the backseat at Shawn and grinned.

“Hell yeah!” Shawn pumped his fist. They drove off.

They chattered for a while, complaining about math class and their history homework. Shawn interrupted them with a question. “Wait, who are we pranking? And there’s only room for two of us in there. I’d really like to be one of the ones who jump out. Are we going to dress up? Are-”

“Shut up dude,” Jamie groaned. “Just give it a sec. I’ll explain when we get to the cemetery.”

Outside, the sun was beginning it’s descent. The beautiful yellow, pink, and orange light framed the trees that lined the road. “Cemetery?” Shawn asked, puzzled. He fidgeted a bit in his seat. “Why are we going to a cemetery? I thought we were going to prank your sister or something.”

“You’ll see.” George waggled his dark eyebrows at Shawn. “It’s gonna be epic.”

Shawn sat in silence as they drove to the semi-rural cemetery. He started to feel the first creeping of doubt up his spine. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like a step too far to play a practical joke using a coffin in a cemetery. And to tag the video #DeadTogether too? What if some goody-two shoes decided to cancel him? He’d heard stories of college acceptances being rescinded because of some stupid social media stunt. Would playing a practical joke in a graveyard be enough to ruin his future? “Guys.....”

It was too late. Jamie turned into the cemetery gates. Or, he turned into the entrance where gates used to be. By now, the old, rusted gates had been removed but never replaced. The hole in the cemetery fence seemed to beckon them, like some strange, open invitation. While there were some modern graves with death dates in the 2000s, most graves in this graveyard appeared old and abandoned. Jamie drove past decrepit and disapproving statues of Christ, Mary, and countless angels until he reached the back of the cemetery, where the oldest tombstones stood, all but forgotten. Images flashed in Shawn’s head of old, rotting bones in old, rotting coffins beneath his feet. He shuddered as he hopped out of the truck.

“Get back here and help us haul this thing out of the bed.” Jamie demanded as Shawn smacked a mosquito on his arm. It left a small splatter of blood.

Shawn joined George and Jamie and grunted as they lifted the coffin from the truck. “This shit is heavy, goddamn.”

George and Jamie said nothing as they rested the coffin on the ground several feet from the truck. They all took a moment to catch their breath.

“Ok, so who’s gonna let me in on the plan, finally?” Shawn wiped sweat from his brow. The slight chill of the air made him shiver.

***

“HI, this is David, leave a message!” Beep.

“Dave, where are you?” Priya wiped her left arm across her brow. It left a streak of bright, white flour against her brown skin. “It’s almost eight. I know you're working late more often these days but....” She trailed off at the sound of Sylvia laughing maniacally at some cartoon character on the television. “You have to tell me when you’re going to be this late, ok? I’m worried. Please call. Or, at least text, ok? I love you.”

She hung up the phone. The smell of cookies filled the kitchen as the world became darker and darker outside. Priya chewed her lip nervously, thinking. She read over David’s text again and again. He’d said he’d be later, sure. But the day was fading and her intuition wouldn’t let her relax. She unlocked her phone and began to dial.

“John here.”

Priya sighed. The sound of their old friend’s voice calmed her increasingly fried nerves, if only a little. “John, it’s Priya. I’m worried about Dave. He hasn’t come home yet. I was wondering if you’d heard from him? Maybe he’s with you and the boys, playing some pool?” Priya tried to keep the sound of desperation from her voice, but she wasn’t quite successful. John picked up on her anxiety.

“And he hasn’t called? Or texted?” John was much better at hiding his anxiety, both in his voice and his face. At this moment, Priya couldn’t tell if he was feeling the same inklings of concern she felt, or if he genuinely wasn’t too worried.

“Well, he texted he’d be a little later, but he hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent and...” She trailed off.

“Maybe his phone is dead. I know whenever Dave does play pool with us at the pub, his phone is often on five percent charge. Maybe he just got to chatting with someone at work, or maybe he’ll arrive home soon with a surprise from Timmie's for you.” They were both silent. John added, “I can call around though, if you’d like. See if anyone has spoken with him the last few hours?”

Priya sighed into the phone once again as Sylvia called for her from the living room. “I’d really appreciate that John, thank you.”

***

Shawn looked warily at his friends as they answered his question with a grin. “Guys....”

“You ready, dude?” Jamie asked with what could only be described as a giggle. Shawn knew he wasn’t really asking, of course. With Jamie, it never mattered if you were ready. It was all about him. He punched George lightly in the arm. “Open it.”

George bent over the coffin and with a grunt he heaved it open. Shawn had to hold in his dinner of chicken and rice as he took in the sight.

There was a man, either very much living, or recently dead. Shawn honestly couldn’t tell. Regardless, the man was white, with no obvious deathly pallor. He wore business casual clothing, with ruffled dark hair and his hands and feet tied up with both rope and duct tape. 

Shawn felt the tiniest sliver of relief as he perceived a shallow rise and fall of the man's chest.

More horrifying than that, though, was the very obviously dead woman laying next to him. In life, she would have been a tall, probably beautiful woman. Long dark hair lay spread around her head like a pool of blood, or a dark halo. Her eyes were closed, darkened skin surrounding sunken sockets and a shriveled mouth. She was a gray-green colour in the fading light of the day, and Shawn thought he saw a fly buzz around her face. Clothed in plain, simple white pants and a t-shirt, she appeared like some sort of movie prop. Shawn tried to rationalize that surely this was a set piece, or even some kind of sick art piece.

But the smell. Dear God, the smell.

She was real. And she was dead.

Behind him, George and Jamie doubled over with laughter at his reaction. Shawn’s mouth dropped open and he retched. Nothing came out. He retched again, this time his body lunging to the side, and he lost the battle and the remains of his dinner left his body. He felt bile burn in his throat and his nostrils as he wiped his mouth on his sweater sleeve.

George closed the coffin once again while Jamie wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh dude, you should have seen your face!”

Shawn took a moment to get his bearings about him. He blinked a few times, breathing slowly. Surely, this was a dream. Surely, his friends hadn’t, what, grave-robbed? And was the man also dead? No, he’d breathed.

“That’s not real, right?” Shawn begged Jamie, a pit in his stomach as he watched Jamie’s eyes gleam in the light of the rising crescent moon. “Please tell me that’s not real. Jamie? Please?” Increasingly desperate, Shawn dared to take a step forward. “Where are the hidden camera? Haha, you got me. Post it on TikTok, I don’t care, just tell me you’re punking me.”

Jamie’s grin widened to almost comical proportions. The smile appeared deeply unnatural in the dim light, the shadows playing cruel tricks on Shawn’s eyes. George butted in. “It’s real. We got the girl from my dad’s funeral home. She’s an unclaimed body. Look, it’s no big deal, we’ll drop her off at the end of the night. And she’s unclaimed anyway, nobody will care-”

“What the fuck?!” Shawn whirled on George, and his breath caught in his throat. He gulped. “Are you serious? You stole a fucking body? This is illegal! This is desecration of a corpse, or something-”

“Lower your voice,” Jamie interrupted, his own tone darkening. “Like George said, she’s unclaimed, they found her in some fucking alleyway somewhere. Probably some junkie with no family. Nobody is going to miss her, and we’re dropping her back off at the end of the night.”

“And- and that man?” Shawn felt his panic begin to rise exponentially, like a line graph in his honours math period. “Is he dead too?”

Jamie snorted. “Nah, just some poor guy we snatched from downtown. Dude, it’ll be fine. He’ll wake up, be a bit spooked, we’ll knock him out again-”

“Knock him out?”

“With chloroform, chill.” George reached a hand out to Shawn, who backed away from his reach.

Around them, the leaves on the trees rustled as a gust of wind passed them by. Crickets began to chirp. The moon rose high in the sky and shone down on them like a spotlight. Shawn imagined police lights flashing, cops with their guns out, and the sound of handcuffs clicking shut.

“He’s gonna fucking sue you, man!” Shawn put his hands on his head and doubled over. “Oh man, oh man, my life is over.” Images flashed before his eyes. Being booked into jail, his mother’s disappointed face behind bulletproof glass, newspapers running his mugshot, disgracing him. He imagined his family getting hate-mail, harassed, and having to leave town. He lowered his arms and straightened up. “Maybe if we drop the guy off before he wakes up-”

“Oh my God, calm down.” Shawn couldn’t be sure, but he thought that Jamie’s face was slowly turning red. This tended to happen when he lost his cool, which wasn’t often. But when it happened, you did not want to be there. And you definitely did not want to be the target of his ire. “My family is rich as hell. We’ll just pay him off. It’ll be a win-win situation. We get to have some fun, he gets a couple thousand bucks. Whatever, no harm done.”

“No harm? What?” Shawn shifted from one foot to another. He felt a growing sense of restlessness. He felt the angel on his shoulder telling him to run while he could. “This is low, man. Being rich won’t get you out of this. You’ve got a case of, what they call it? Affluenza?”

“Influenza?” George asked, puzzled. He drew his sleeves over his hands, “Like the flu?”

Jamie snorted. “No, dipshit. Affluenza. It’s some bullshit thing the media says when they’re pissed that a rich person can deal with problems with money. If you ask me, it’s because people are jealous. Really, Shawn. Money is what people want. I know you don’t get it but you’ll understand some day.” Jamie took a step forward. “This guy is gonna thank me, you'll see. He’ll probably laugh at this in a year from now. All that’s really gonna happen is my parents will be a bit pissed off for a bit but they’ll get over it. And they’ll never believe this guy if he claims there was a corpse. Cause we’re putting it back, like I said.” Jamie said all this matter-of-factly, like it made everything better.

“You’re insane.” Shawn spat, shocked at the venom in his own voice. These guys were his friends. Weren’t they? “You’re sick, you’re-”

“You’re going to shut up or you’re going to lose a few teeth, brother.” Jamie looked at George and briskly nodded his head. “Get him.” He commanded George like some sort of guard dog.

Before Shawn could make a full one-eighty, George was on him. Shawn was tackled, face first, hitting the hard cemetery ground beneath them. Shawn tried to break free from George but his friend - or former friend - was too heavy and too strong. Shawn continued to struggle, futilely, as Jamie approached slowly. Each step hit the ground with a deliberate thump. Jamie was enjoying Shawn struggle.

“If you say anything to anyone about this,” Jamie started, “George and I will tell everyone you forced us into this. Right George?”

George grunted in approval. “Yup.”

“You blackmailed us. You told us, oh, you just had a funny plan for a prank, could we borrow Jane’s Never Shall We Part, just for a night? And of course, we said yes, because we are your friends, right?”

Shawn tasted blood in his mouth. By now, the sun had completely set. He was left to try to see the graveyard around him under the dark, night sky and a crescent moon slightly obscured by clouds. But the clouds were moving. Soon, the cemetery would be lit up a little more and maybe he could break free. He could run for it.

“Yeah,” George ground out, still holding Shawn down. Shawn stopped squirming. “That’s it, dude. It’ll be better if you just go along with it. Are you gonna be cool? Can I let you up? We’re here to have fun.”

Shawn gulped and nodded, his chin hitting the cursed earth under him.

George slowly got up. He brushed the dirt off his pants. Shawn sat up gingerly, groaning at the ache in his legs and back. He’d definitely injured something. He wasn’t sure he would be able to run for it.

They sat there silently, each glancing at each other warily. Shawn could hear the pounding of blood rushing in his ears. He tested his ankle and winced. George helped him stand up, and Shawn limped on his good foot.

Then, the sounds began.

***

Priya looked at the clock on the stove. 9:30pm.

Sylvia was fast asleep. She’d asked where daddy was as Priya had tucked her in. Priya’d made up some story about David needing to stop by grandma’s house to help her clean. That had satisfied their daughter, who’d made Priya promise to give David an extra goodnight kiss for her.

She glanced down at her phone. She’d called David maybe ten times over the last hour, leaving increasingly desperate voicemails. Where are you? I’m worried. Please, call me back. Just text me. Please.

She’d called a dozen of their friends, but nobody had seen David today. She hesitated a moment, then called her sister again. Meera picked up the phone on the first ring. “Any sign of David?”

Priya began to cry. “No. Meera, I’m scared.” She couldn't hold in her fear anymore.

Meera was silent for a moment. “Priya, let’s call the police. We can make a missing person’s report, if you’re that worried.”

The clock over the fireplace ticked from second to second. Every moment that went by felt like an eternity for Priya. She felt a bead of nervous sweat trickle down her cheek. The salty liquid mixed with her tears. “I thought we had to wait? Forty-eight hours, or something?”

“No, no that’s not true.” Meera assured her. “Listen, I’ll be right over, ok? Take a drink of water. Take a deep breath. “

“Ok.” Priya breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Please, hurry.”

***

Shawn watched in mute horror as Jamie and George approached the closed double-wide monstrosity of a coffin. He could hear the man calling for help, his cries muffled. He pounded against the wood of the coffin door. The stench, God, Shawn couldn’t imagine the absolute stench in there. The man must be choking on the rot.

Shawn almost lost his footing as Jamie leaned over the coffin, casting a sly smile over at George. “Welcome to Hell!” He proclaimed in a high-pitched wail. “Welcome to Satan’s lair!”

***

David awoke in complete and utter darkness. As he slowly regained his senses, he was overcome by the smell of death and decay. He retched, his head jutting forward, abruptly hitting his forehead against some sort of hard surface. Ow. What?

He tried to draw his hands up to wipe sweat from his brow, but his wrists were somehow stuck – tied? – together, and he was unable to raise both arms, connected as they were in such a small space. Where the hell was he? Thoughts flashed through his mind like snapshots or flashing lights. A bomb? Was he stuck under debris after some kind of terrorist attack? Maybe an earthquake?

David could feel his heart rate skyrocket with terror. Despite his tendency to struggle with inner turmoil, he also tended to be level-headed in times of crisis. But he wasn’t sure how level-headed he could remain stuck in such a small space. A life-long claustrophobe, he knew he didn’t have long before he lost his mind entirely from panic.

That’s when the voices started.

An evil, impish voice sounded from somewhere outside wherever he was. It sounded like it was coming from behind a door, or a thin wall. “Welcome to Hell! Welcome to Satan’s lair!”

Another voice joined in, this one deeper and more menacing. “God has abandoned you. Welcome to your final resting place!” Maniacal laughter ensued.

David’s gut began to churn. Could it be true? Was he dead? He frantically thought through the events of the day. Chatting with Priya and Sylvia before work. A long day at the office, small talk with coworkers at lunch, and finally walking to his car. Then a boy in an alleyway. Yes, a boy, and then darkness. Had the boy mugged him? Had he really died and ended up in Hell?

“No,” David whispered, desperate. “No!”

He felt the rising wave of a true panic attack. He tried desperately to calm himself, to stave it off, but it was too late. His breathing became erratic and he felt urine trickle down into his underwear. His mind slipped away from the last vestiges of modern logic and into a pit of primordial dread.

“What shall we do first?” The impish voice hissed.

The second demon answered. “I think we should flay him, Beelzebub. Yes, flay him and roast his skin over the fires!”

“No!” David cried out, his voice cracking. He breathed, open-mouthed, choking on the rotting air around him. The smell of putrefaction and damnation cloaked David. What had he done to deserve this? Images of people burning in pools of lava as monsters poked at them with sticks and knives and spears took over his mind. He hadn’t been perfect, but he’d been Catholic. He’d been raised in Sunday school, and still went to Church every Sunday with his family. How could this have happened?

“O-our father, who art in heaven,” David began to cry. “H-hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come-”

“THE ONLY KINGDOM YOU’RE SEEING IS THE DEVIL’S KINGDOM!” The low-voiced demon boomed. David’s tears intensified. He shifted and the little button on the side of his watch pressed against the thumb of his right hand, the watch face briefly lighting up the area near his waist, where his hands lay.

There, another hand?

David froze. He pushed his right hand against the watch on his left hand, pressing down on the little light-up button once again. The face of his analog watch lit up once more, a gentle yellow colour, and the light revealed – yes – another hand, just next to him.

David gasped. The hand was light-skinned, but mottled with purple and red. The nails on the hand were a little too long and were quite dirty. In the dim light, the nails appeared almost black. He wasn’t alone in this predicament. Oh God, another poor soul, damned for eternity?

The hand twitched.

David jerked. He was shocked at the slight movement; he felt bile rise into his mouth. He gagged, but swallowed it back down. Again, the hand twitched. Each finger curled slightly, one at a time, one after the other. Then the hand, abruptly, closed into a fist.

In his terror, David let his watch's little light go out.

In it’s wake, two yellow-orange dots appeared. David couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream, and he couldn’t speak, as he realized that the two firefly-like orbs floating in front of his head were, in fact, eyes.

And they were looking straight at him.

***

Shawn reluctantly held up the phone, recording George and Jamie as they role-played the part of demons tormenting a damned soul. He could hear the cries of the poor man in the coffin growing louder. George leaned in closer to the coffin, while Jamie kept looking back at Shawn. He smiled, but his eyes held a dangerous promise. Run, and it won’t be just one ankle that’s hurting.

Shawn began to shake, a bit from the chill of the night, and a bit from horror at what was taking place before him. He’d tried to convince George and Jamie that filming this was an even worse idea than simply just doing it. Jamie had threatened to have George break his knees. George had looked a bit sick at the thought, but hadn’t said anything to contradict Jamie’s threats. For a moment, Shawn had felt bad for George. He really was Jamie’s kicked puppy. The sliver of empathy had quickly evaporated as George stepped into the role of monster so effortlessly, though.

Desperately, Shawn wracked his brain for some kind of plan. George and Jamie had already promised to back each other up if Shawn told anyone about what had happened that night. They even came up with a story to cover Shawn’s injuries, right there on the spot. Shawn was disturbed at how easily Jamie and George had turned on him. To hear his supposed friends promise to claim self-defense against Shawn should he try to speak out, made the lump in his throat grow even bigger. It felt silly at a time like this, but he felt an incredible sadness growing in his heart. These two boys he’d grown up with had become their own kind of evil.

 Somewhere, somehow, Jamie and George had gone wrong. They hadn’t just grown up and grown jaded. It was as if their very souls had curdled. Shawn tried to remember when they’d changed for the worse, but he couldn’t pinpoint any specific moment.

“Do you hear that?” George broke character, looking over at Jamie with a question on his face. “What the hell is that?”

***

The thing’s eyes grew brighter and brighter, and the yellow light emanating from them made David squint through his tears. The light settled down into a soft glow and David gasped at what lay before him. He barely had time to register the thing’s rotting grin before it lunged at him.

***

All three boys were silent. Shawn crept forward a bit, uneasy at his former friends’ sudden solemnity. He stopped about three feet away from the coffin. Jamie and George both put their ears against the lid, their confidence wavering.

Shawn thought he could hear gasps, maybe some quieter vocalizations from the man inside the coffin. No longer was there loud prayer or sobbing or screaming. It almost sounded like a slurping, like the sound you made when you got to the bottom of a thick, old-fashioned cherry milkshake. Jamie frowned at George, who shrugged.

Jamie stood and stepped away. “Open it.” There was no question, no option. Only a command for his minion.

“What?” George lurched to his feet. “Nah man. I’m not-”

“I said open it.” Jamie growled. George’s face lost all colour. For the first time that night, George really appeared afraid. All pretense of toughness and edge-lord fueled courage fled his body. “Jamie...”

“Open the goddamn coffin, George.” Jamie cracked his knuckles and gritted his teeth. The clouds above passed over the moon, and the full light of the waning crescent above shone down on them. The angles of Jamie’s face became starker in the moonlight, and the coldness in his eyes chilled Shawn to his soul.

George reluctantly took a step forward, reaching for the edge of the coffin lid. He took a deep breath, and flung it open.

The man had been very much alive when they’d kidnapped him, drugged him, and stowed him away in the double-wide coffin next to the very much dead woman. Now, there was no chance in heaven or hell that he’d ever take another breath.

From the shoulders down, he appeared intact. His hands remained tied and taped together, albeit slightly raised in fright. A dark stain appeared on his khaki pants where he’d lost control of his bladder. Except for that and the copious amounts of blood, his clothes remained unscathed.

His neck and head were another story altogether.

His throat sat open and hollow, like an organic bowl awaiting fresh fruits or bread rolls. Jagged edges gleamed cherry-red in the light of the night, and his spine lay exposed at the bottom of the ravine of his flesh, covered in his own lifeblood. As his heart pumped it’s last, a small trickle of blood flowed out of a vein in his neck, a serene red river.

He opened his eyes.

In sync, the man and the corpse woman sprung up as if on puppet-strings, their dead flesh somehow allowing their legs to hold them upright. The man’s head lolled and almost fell off, held in place only because of the meager strength of his remaining flesh and bone; his spine and the last vestiges of cartilage and skin struggled to hold his face forward as he grinned, wide-mouthed and newly fanged.

The woman’s matching, glowing eyes trained themselves on the shocked boys. Her mottled flesh appeared less rotted in the moonlight, and Shawn could have sworn she was regaining colour – something akin to a normal if pale colouring, really - by the second. George and Jamie both turned, hoping to make a run for it.

They never had a chance.

Shawn only watched for a moment as he saw the man tear into George’s throat and rip out the flesh and viscera with no effort at all. The man chewed on George’s Adam’s apple like a candy; Shawn could hear the crunch crunch crunch of the man’s teeth as his jaw worked. The light immediately left George’s eyes.

Jamie wasn’t faring so well under the care of the dead woman. Jamie was able to let out a scream of pure terror before the woman opened her jaw, wide and reptilian and entirely unnatural, and swallowed Jamie’s entire face in one swift motion. Her throat moved like a living thing as she gulped down the boy’s nose, eyes, ears, and hair.

Shawn ran.

He ran as fast as he could on his bad leg, ignoring the pain. He didn’t look back. He silently thanked the moon for it’s meager light as he dodged gravestones and flower arrangements. He cursed Jamie and George for getting him into this mess – this mess, that was one way to put it – and for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

Shawn tripped over a broken tombstone and groaned in agony. He turned to haul himself up, but he saw that it was too late. Both the man and woman stood next to him, grinning with blood-stained fangs. The woman had something red and stringy – a vein? A nerve? - dangling from between her two front teeth.

“What are you?” Shawn could only whisper the question, so quiet he wasn’t sure that they had heard him.

The man and woman opened their mouths and spoke as one, an infernal chorus of infinite voices accompanying them.

“Alukah. Gallu. Pishacha. Strigoi.” They laughed, and Shawn’s ears popped and he felt a warm trickle down his cheeks. He touched his hand to his right ear, and it came away covered in blood.

“Please.” His voice shook and cracked. “Please, I didn’t want to do it. They made me. Please.” He begged. His lip began to quiver. “God, please-”

The two things looked at each other, their grins widening. They turned back to Shawn.

He breathed in deeply, ready to let out a scream.

He never had the chance.

***

POLICE CANNOT CONFIRM OR DENY CONNECTION BETWEEN THREE MISSING TEENS AND LOCAL MISSING FATHER.

By Harriet Kasey

One month after the disappearance of three local teens, the Kingston police are asking the public for their help in the ongoing search.

Shawn Greene, 17, Jamie McGraff, 17, and George Johnston, 16 went missing on September 20 after attending school as usual. Students and faculty say that they did not notice any strange behavior from the three boys prior to their disappearance.

Principal Stacy James of Kingston Public High School remains hopeful that the boys will be found. “I love my students and I have to keep hoping that we will find them alive and well.” She states that the boys were your average high school students, with bright futures. “George told me he wanted to go to university and become an oncologist. Jamie mentioned going into business like his father, and Shawn told me he wanted to travel the world.”

The boys’ families appeared at a press conference with the Chief of Police last Thursday. The McGraff family offered a ten thousand dollar reward to the public. Leah McGraff, Jamie McGraff’s mother, spoke with confidence and hope as she addressed her fellow Kingstonians. “Our boys are bright, kind young men with a wonderful future ahead of them. Please, if anyone has information on their whereabouts, contact the police. If you see something, say something.”

George Johnston Sr also plead with the public on behalf of the boys. “I know these boys. They’re good students, good friends, and good people. If you know anything at all, please come forward.”

The Greene family declined to comment, stating only that they agreed with Johnston and McGraff’s statements.

Local police refused to confirm or deny if they believe the boys' disappearance has any connection to the disappearance of local husband and father, David Underhill, 49. He was last seen by colleagues at his workplace on the same night the three boys disappeared. His wife, Priya Underhill, has made similar pleas to the public for support. “We have a daughter,” she told CBC news. “David wouldn’t just leave us like this. I know that something is wrong. Please, if you have any information, tell the authorities.”

Jane McGraff, Jamie’s sister, is a TikTok influencer with over 200,000 followers. She posted a TikTok which has since gone viral, highlighting both the disappearance of the boys and Underhill. Her video has been shared over 50,000 times on the platform, and the story has been picked up by American and British media as well.

“I love my brother.” Jane tearfully told CBC news in an exclusive interview last Wednesday. “I’ll do anything and everything I can to bring him home. If anyone out there has hurt my brother, please, I beg you to come forward. Confess if you’ve done something to him. And Jamie, if you’re playing some kind of prank or have just run away, please come home. We love you and we miss you.” •