The Coffin

All was quiet in the graveyard. It was cold and dark and empty. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightening flashed in the charcoal sky. Torrents of rain poured down, splashing onto the soft mud. A lamppost flickered and went out. All was dark. All was cold. All was still. . .

Cautiously, Leila picked her way through the headstones. Tip-toeing through the deserted graveyard, she glanced around, slowly, anxiously. She knew she shouldn't be here, but something was wrong. Something was troubling her. Nightmares had haunted her sleep for the past month, but she had done nothing about it. Now, she knew it was time to act.

From somewhere behind her, she heard echoing footsteps. She stood still. Statue still. Rooted to the spot. Then, something inside her clicked. Quickly, she dived into the bushes and peered out. A dark sillouette of a man stood out against the background of the graveyard. Wriggling forwards to get a better perspective, she looked away. Something had made the man spin round. He had stopped and was staring right at her through the bushes. Drawing in a sharp breath, Leila hid her face. The man continued to walk in the opposite direction accross the graveyard. Gasping for breath, Leila wondered whether it was just by some fluke that the man had looked her way. Had he even seen her? She breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped through the undergrowth.

Suddenly, she tripped on a rock. Looking down, Leila noticed that it wasn't a rock, but a coffin, unburied and covered with moss. Crouching down, she brushed away the moss, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a headstone, drowning in ivy. Her first instinct was to go over and investigate, but something made her stop and think. Was it just the darkness that creeped her out? Was it that she had been so close to being found a few minutes ago? But, despite these thoughts, she was curious to discover the mystery hidden coffin, and who it belonged to. Without further hesitation, she crept over to the headstone and muffling a scream, jumped back in shock and horror! There, on the headstone, read:

~RIP LEILA GOODMAN~

Her name. It couldn't be! Could it? With trepidation, she opened up the coffin. It was empty. Nothing but cobwebs. She screamed as she felt a sharp push on her back. But no one heard her screams as she fell into the coffin, falling and hitting her head on the cold, dusty bottom. Satisfied, the man stared hard into her frozen, lifeless grey eyes, an evil smirk spread across his face, like a crack would spread accross mirror. And then he turned and melted into the shadows.

All was quiet in the graveyard. It was cold and dark and empty. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightening flashed in the charcoal sky. Torrents of rain poured down, splashing onto the soft mud. A lamppost flickered and went out. All was dark. All was cold. All was still. . .