So Scary 2- The Coffin Maker

Check out these tales of terror and read if you dare. And there will be more chills to come.

Note- These scary tales will not have an ending, but to let readers think what's going to happen next.

So Scary 2- The Coffin Maker

In the winter of 1897, a rush of traffic had been ongoing for the entire day. People outside the streets, were shouting, and waiting to go back home. Others stayed at work, until the heavy snow dies down.

Henry looked out the window, becoming terrified of something that he had seen before. It wasn't the snowy weather that scared him. It was something, unimaginable on all accounts of his late-night visit.

His colleagues were waiting for him. They have talked each other about the heavy weather, and when it will stop. Henry thought the same thing.

He came back to join his friends. They were three of them, discussing topics that ranged from the supernatural to normal. They were all part of a society that engages in such conversations.

Henry sat on his seat, and looked at his friends. He wondered if he could tell them about what happened a week ago.

"My dear friends," Henry spoke out first. "I have some grave news."

His friends glanced at each other. One of them said, "What is it?"

Henry hoped he could believe them. But he had to try. "I have encountered something evil in our presence. Not to say it's here. But I'm talking about the town, where we live."

His friends wondered where this was going. Henry stared at them for a while, and continued speaking.

"These things I have seen..." Henry paused for a while. "They are dangerous. They are not even human. I couldn't fathom it, I tell you. I couldn't tell what they were. But these things, you should have seen them. They were pale, as if they're truly dead. I saw a lot of coffins in the graveyard. My God, there were a lot. It's like someone made them for these damn things."

Henry's friends started to laugh. Henry knew that this was coming for him. He had no time for this silly charade.

After a few seconds of laughter, they stopped. One of them said, "You must be joking."

Henry sighed. He wished his friends would take his words seriously. "I don't joke. I have seen them with my own eyes."

"What proof do you have?" One of his friends said. "Surely, you must have some proof to provide an explanation."

"It sounds rubbish to me," the other friend said. He was pretty old, but his age looked a lot younger than the other two men in the discussion room.

"I figured you won't believe me," Henry said. "But you must. I wanted to tell the others, but I thought of letting it go, and tell you myself."

One of his friends, who was smoking a pipe, got up from his seat. He took a glass of champagne, pouring it into the glass. He was a young man of many talents. A pianist, who had scored a lot good notes in the last decade. His blonde hair was curly, and the women around him, were famished by his good looks.

"Surely, you can't believe what you're saying," the handsome blonde told him. "The mind can play tricks on a person. A person wants to see things that weren't there. I'm assuming you're the only person, who saw these things."

Henry felt mocked by the handsome, young man. He wanted to get up, and slap his face. But he thought the better of it. He calmed down his anger.

"Look, Henry,' the old man said. "I know you want us to believe in you. But these are silly tales that can frighten children in the night. I swear to God, when my son was very young, he used to read a giant book of Horror Stories. Then, late at night, he had nightmares, and thought he saw the things that were mentioned in the book. I've told him, they were just stories. He agreed with me. So, there are no such things that you've mentioned, whatever they are, exist."

"He's right, you know," the handsome blonde said. "You might want to publish a novel for that matter. People will believe you. I'm sure of it."

Henry had heard enough of the blonde man's mockery. It was time to go home.

"Henry?" The old man said, almost getting up from his seat. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going home," Henry said, sounding furiously. "My wife is waiting for me. She might be worried."

"But the weather outside," the old man said, looking at the window. "It's snowing brutally. You might catch cold."

"I'm aware of it," Henry said. "But I must go now. I'll be fine. Goodbye, and goodnight."

"Goodnight to you too, Henry," the blonde man said. He drank the rest of the champagne. Henry didn't look at him. He left the building.

It was brewing outside. Some of the horse carts still got stuck in the traffic. People were again shouting at the weather, as if God brought it upon them.

Henry didn't mind the heavy snow. He just wanted to go home, never again to enter the society. His friends thought his tale was rubbish. How rubbish they are!

He never liked the blonde man, especially the blonde man. Why, Henry could have slapped his face for all he cared. He calmed down his anger again, and focused on going home.

He tried to call out a coachman, so that he can be picked up. The weather was so cold, that Henry felt like having a shiver. He stood, waiting on the road, with all the people in tow. Some of them made a fire in their midst, and some of them drank hot soup to calm their cold nerves down.

The coach arrived, and it looked there was nobody in the passenger seats. Henry called out to give him a ride. The coachman agreed, but he warned Henry that it might take a long time.

After few hours of waiting in the dreaded snow, Henry finally reached home. His wife, Julia felt relieved to see him.

"Henry!" Julia said. "My God, where you have been? It's getting late."

"I know," Henry said. He put his hat and coat on the stand. "I was at the society for a while. I thought of staying there till sunrise. But I've changed my mind."

"Oh..." Julia said. "I see."

"Yes," Henry said. "Now, I must change and be off to bed. I'm tired."

"I can see that," Julia said. "Come along now. I'll make you some tea."

"There's no need for that. I've already had one along the journey." He went upstairs to the bedroom.

"Are you sure?" Julia called out to him. But he didn't answer. Julia shrugged, and went back to the kitchen, to clean the dishes.

The next day, Henry came to the dining room. Julia had setup a breakfast for him.

"Good morning, Julia," Henry said.

"Good morning," Julia said. "There's your breakfast. You might want to eat up soon. You're already late to work."

Henry just realized something. "My God! How long was I asleep?"

Julia didn't say anything. She figured that Henry could find out for himself.

"Oh, never mind," Henry said. "I might as well have to come. This can't be the first time, I'll be late to work."

"It had never been the first," Julia corrected him. "You're always late. And that shows you're not responsible enough."

Julia was right. Henry always comes late to work. He teaches history at the Oxford University. Many students have already figured he would come late to class. Even the school principal wasn't too happy about it.

"Oh well," Henry said. "I can't look foolish in the class this time."

"So, you're not going?" Julia asked him.

"No," Henry answered. "I'll just call in sick. I hoped the principal agrees with that."

Henry didn't go to school. So, he decided to go out, and have some fresh air. There was still snow outside, but it was sunny. While walking, a bunch of kids threw a snowball at his coat. He ignored it.

Silly kids, Henry thought. He moved on.

He reached the cemetery, and saw two caretakers pushing the coffin to the grave. He wondered if the thing was still inside it. But he could be wrong. It might have been a dead human.

He opened the gates, and approached the men. They looked at him.

"Hello there," one of the caretakers said.

"Hello," Henry said. "Working hard?"

"Yeah," the old caretaker said. "This coffin is really heavy. That's why I needed another person to do the job. Can't be doing this kind of thing by myself."

Henry immediately recognized the caretaker. When his father died, this caretaker buried him.

"I'm George by the way", the caretaker introduced himself to Henry, as if this was the first time. "And this is Michael. He's pretty new here. It's a good thing he came up to see me. He wanted a job, you know."

"Yes, I can see that," Henry said. He stared at the coffin.

"Well then," George said. "We best be going now. It's going to get dark soon."

Henry stared at the sky. He didn't realize, he was out for too long. It looked like it was also going to rain soon.

At late night, Henry didn't go back home. He wandered around the gravesite, and watched the caretakers carrying the wooden coffins to their graves. He felt the fear coming to his senses. Knowing that the things were still inside the coffins, he wanted to do something about them.

But what? Does he know what these things were, and what they can do? He had to find out.

There was a house located on the hillside of the deep forest. He noticed a light, dimming from the inside. It looked far enough to see that someone might be living there. The caretakers went back to the house, to carry more coffins.

He decided to go up the hill. He didn't want to get caught, sneaking up behind them. They would surely find out, what he was attempting to do.

"This is mad," Henry said to himself. "I should be going home now." His wife will wonder where he had been gone this time. She might get furious.

But this wasn't the time to think about changing one's mind. He was curious to know what the hell was happening here. If he wanted proof of the thing's existence, he shall have it.

He walked up the hill. The sounds of the trees whistled throughout the night. There was nobody, not even a drunkard would dare wander alone in the dark. Henry never felt so afraid in his life. The coffins...What were those things?

He finally reached the house. He stood behind the window, watching their every step. He noticed one thing, and it terrified him.

Dear God, Henry wanted to shout. But he couldn't, since the caretakers might hear him. He tried to hold his breath.

Inside the coffin, there lay a dead man, whose face went pale. Henry didn't know what to make of the thing. He wondered if it was still alive.

"It's beautiful. Isn't it?" someone said behind Henry. He startled. He then turned around and saw the person, standing in front of him.

"You!" Henry said with a shock. "It... can't be."

"Oh yes," the old man from the society said. "Henry, my boy, you of all people should know that I'm a doctor. I've come here at the greatest importance."

Henry was baffled by what he just said. "I don't understand. What's a doctor doing at the cemetery?"

"Follow me," the old man said. "I'll explain."

Henry followed his old friend to the house. The caretakers noticed that Henry was with the old man.

"No need to get startled, my friends," the old man said. "He's with me."

The caretakers shrugged, and continued their job. Henry saw the thing, until the young caretaker closed the lid of the coffin.

"What is that thing?" Henry wanted to ask someone for a long time. "And how you're involved in this?"

The old man sat down on his chair, puffing a smoke. He sure looked tired, but he had work to do.

"Henry," the old man said. "A lot of my patients were getting rare cases of pneumonia. Some of them had died a month ago."

"Oh..." Henry said. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes, it was very tragic. Even children are getting it. It's this time of year that everyone is getting it. And I'm tired."

Henry wasn't sure of where this was going. He wanted to know about these things, not the damn weather affecting the town.

"So, I've decided to do something about it," the old man continued. "Something different, I should say. I hoped everyone understands of what I'm trying to do here. But guess what? My patients are feeling better already. The pneumonia exists no more."

"What?" Henry was surprised. "How do you mean?"

"You see, Henry," the old man said. "That thing is the cure to this dreadful disease." He pointed to the coffin. "I can't explain how or why. But I've figured it out. I took its blood sample, and analyzed it in my laboratory. What I found out was incredible. You couldn't even believe it."

"What?" Henry wanted to know more.

"The thing's blood has regenerative properties. Somehow, it's blood cured the disease. Like I've said, I can't explain. Not even the other doctors know."

"Wait!" Henry said. "Do they know what you're doing here?"

"No," the old man said. "Not yet. I won't probably tell them for a long time. I'm afraid that they might find this cure an abomination. It's too drastic to tell them, even the others in this town. I can't risk that."

"But the side effects..." Henry said, gasping at the idea of transferring the thing's blood into a human being. "Surely, you must know what might happen to these patients."

"Unfortunately, that's not the case," the old man said. "Nothing has happened in the past weeks. However, a patient showed some signs."

"Signs?" Henry said.

"Yes," the old man said. "This patient was hungry for blood."

Henry felt like jumping back on the floor. The fear surged through him.

"Dear God," Henry said.

"Yes, I know," the old man said. "I was shocked as you are now. But what can I do? I can't let the innocents die. Surely, you must know that.

Henry wanted to agree with him. But using the thing's blood to cure the common cold? That's madness.

"What about those things? Are they still alive? Where did you find them?"

"Oh that," the old man said, staring at the coffin. "I don't know. They had been like this, ever since we've found them. It was a gravesite, where there were no coffins at all."

"What?" Henry was surprised to hear it. "What are you saying? You found these things lying buried in the grave with no bloody coffins?"

"That's right, my friend," the old man said. "It was one night, when George was digging up a grave to bury his dead wife. But he found something that terrified him. He called me and ask for my help. When I came to know what was up, I wasn't sure of what I had just seen there. It wasn't just one body. There were thousands of them."

Thousands! Henry wanted to scream.

"So, I've told George to build a coffin for these unfortunate souls. It's the only way to mask the existence of these things from the town. If the townspeople were to find out, they would be terrified."

Now it all makes sense, Henry thought. He hadn't seen this coming, and he thought that his old friend never believed his creepy tale.

"I'm sorry, Henry," the old man said. "I should have told you this earlier. But I can't be found out of what I'm doing here. It's too great a risk. I'm sure you understand that."

"This is madness," Henry said. "I implore you, my dearest friend, that you shouldn't continue this nightmare. Please, I beg of you."

The old man sighed. He stood up from his chair, and said, "I was afraid that it might come to this. George..."

As Henry was about to turn around, George banged his head with a shovel.

"I'm truly sorry, my friend," the old man said. "Nobody should find out about this. I hoped you would understand the outcome of this. But I'm afraid it wasn't so." He looked at George, and he nodded. George and his young apprentice, stared at Henry's unconscious body.

It has been a year now, that Henry was dead. Julia didn't know what else to say. She cried for him days and nights. His old friend had told her, that he had suffered pneumonia and came to his home for help. At first, Julia didn't believe it. She was sure that Henry was better, since the last time he left home.

Somewhere at the gravesite, the caretaker looked at Henry's grave. He began to wonder if his wife would find out the truth. But it was not going to happen. Nobody was ever going to find out. He walked away from the grave. There was a rustling sound, as if someone was trying to wake up. He was sure that it wasn't Henry.

Besides, whatever those things were, they might have been dead for a long time. He wondered if Henry would become one of them.

Next Story- Signs.