The Coffin Keys
They were brittle as twigs, even though they looked a bit well cared-for. Slightly chewed around the teeth, but the plain gold plating never shone better. It was strange to see a monster treat keys so dear like some gangland janitor. But the damned things couldn't survive a little use, if any at all, in the end. The last three were proof of that.
It didn't matter anymore, though.
One last key, one last coffin.
Why, someone had no doubt asked while watching, was I opening coffins?
A little curiosity never hurt anyone, although worse matters pressed than a few odd caskets in the belly of a basement. But this manor belonged to Shinra. Up until now, the company had suffered, dealt, and disposed of some pretty shady business in this world. A few coffins shouldn't have come as a surprise by now. But, they did. In a normal world, no self-respecting basement kept boxes of death for fun. Something very wrong had gone on here.
Something was especially wrong with this coffin, sitting lonely and kind of pretty in the middle of the pack.
Was it full of more big ass, bone-eating bugs? It was possible. But the coffin didn't rattle, buzz, and nor did it drone. A soft, muffled noise just came through the black wood, steady but faint.
It was almost as if it breathed.
Like a living person.
Really…
Really, all I had to do was open this thing and see the truth for itself.
With a little push and jerk of the key, the bolt would turn. The fragile metal would twist and break, but the coffin would finally be unlocked.
So, here it went.
The lid popped with hardly a hitch, the broken key fell with a sweet and tiny ding on the stony floor, and stagnant air flew out in a funky smelling puff. So, whatever lay inside was stinking dead or had really bad breath. It made little sense to such a simple mind, yet it'd actually be simpler than that. All it'd take was a simple look and clarity could run its course.
Yeah…
There was something inside, alright. Through the tight crack in the open lid, there was a shadow. Round, like a head, with a funny black mop on top. It was wrapped up, though. Wool, linen, velvet, maybe? Either of those were too kind for a dead guy— said one culture and not another— so whoever sealed him up had a thing for him. Strange idea, it was, to think the thing inside was a guy, if even a human being. Sometimes hunches never hurt, either.
Disturbing the dead, living dead, or whatever kind of dead this coffin guy was, had to be a crime somewhere, anywhere. But was he dead? Was he really pushing up lilies in some forgotten hole in the ground?
Suddenly, a strangely quiet voice said to leave now, or else. Or else what? And who had said that, anyways? In a place like this, that sort of warning meant serious business. Curiosity was strong here, but duty manned the helm once again.
The air whooped when the lid fell back down. A sorry made way for thanks, that being the nice thing to do. There wasn't time to think about the silent voice actually talking back. What mattered was what lied away from that coffin, outside its room, at the end of this rocky hall. And the valuable lesson learned from all that was?
"Don't bother folks in their coffins. It's impolite and there're other things to do. Right, sorry…"