Story 1119: The Moonlit Coffin

They buried her at midnight, as the will demanded.

No priest, no mourners. Only a gravedigger and the attorney who delivered the last rites with a trembling voice. The woman, Miss Elara Greaves, had died without family, friends, or record. But her coffin… was silver-laced and glowed in moonlight.

The gravedigger, a man named Osric, had dug many holes in this cursed soil—but never for someone like her.

“It’s… humming,” he whispered, running a calloused hand over the casket’s lid. A low, vibrating tone pulsed beneath it—like a heartbeat made of sorrow.

The attorney didn't respond. He was already halfway back to the carriage.

Osric buried her fast.

But he didn’t sleep that night.

Because around 2:00 a.m., the moon burned brighter than he’d ever seen it—and the grave began to glow.

Not from above.

From within.

Osric returned the next night. And the next. Drawn, unwillingly, by something achingly familiar about that coffin. On the fourth night, he brought a spade.