The Architect of Coffins, a short story by Brandon Hooks

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Almost immediately on arrival, the boys noticed to their left, the awful junk pile of fractured coffins that had crushed the old man to death. Brian walked over to it and stopped. There were colonies of spiders all over it, and dust covered it like snow covered the roadways. It didn’t take them very long to abandon the sight and move forward. The boys walked further into the house and approached a large hall running through the center, depth of building and recess. Brian remained in front during the preliminary search of the mansion. There were two parlors on each side of the hall. From there was an entry way that ran from the hall in the rear of what seemed to be room #2 to the kitchen part. The hall that ran the depth of the mansion was estimated by the naked eye to be about nine feet wide, with an open newel staircase running up into the garret. The newel posts were pine, and the banisters were mahogany.

Brian turned to Warren and Drew and smiled, the grin getting more hideous each time. “Here it is boys; this is the room that the old kook slept in. This is room #1.”

Warren said, “Hell, I ain’t going in there!” Drew said back in ridicule.

“What’s the matter, slacker, afraid of your own shadow?”

“Jennifer Morgan, Dr. Drew, Jennifer Morgan!” Warren answered back in anger.

Brian ignored the bickering and looked into the room with astonishment. The room was full of space. There was a large fireplace catty cornered to the entranceway that had a neat, white, marble mantel and fire grate. The room contained three windows with black drapes over each one of them. Drew turned his head and shuddered at the sight. He coughed and gagged. The lack of maintenance to the room and the odor were revolting. A dusty chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Brian turned to walk out of the room and noticed a man missing. Warren was unaccounted for. Brian shouted, “Green, where you at, buddy?”

Warren yelled back, “In here, the kitchen. Come check it out. Maybe we can send Dr. Drew out for some liquor!”

Drew responded while walking down the hall towards the kitchen, “Very funny wise guy!”

The kitchen was a disaster. It looked as if a bomb had been detonated. The walls were torn and split. Dust and soot was all over the countertops and dusty, purple drapes hung from the windows. There were pot holes deeply rooted into the floors, and blades of grass were springing to life and peeking out of the holes.

“This is my partying atmosphere!” Warren said as he busted a dancing move on the floors.

Brian searched out the kitchen and noticed an open door that led to the cellar.

“Hey look, the door is open,” Brian said with excitement.

He walked to the opened door and peeked into the darkness that led down into the cellar. He jerked back and stopped. A rush of cold air caught him unaware. He rubbed his hands together and blew breath into the cups of his hands.

Drew called, “What happened? What do you see down there?”

Brian said as he backed up further, “Cold, damn cold down there! There won’t be any going down there, that’s for sure!”

Brian slammed the door shut, but it was too late. The air began to chill and the temperature plummeted.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Brian snapped.

It was now 8:45 at night and the boys walked back down the hall and towards the master living room again. Trying to flee from the descending temperatures was getting harder by the minute. They made their way past Mortimer’s room and were back into the piazza. The first thing to catch all three boy’s eyes was the mess of broken coffins they had seen previously. The cold was getting worse and the dull, yellowish, brown lighting began to gradually lose its vigor. It was getting darker and darker.

“I wish I hadn’t opened that damned door!” Brian shouted in his mind.

Drew cupped his hands and blew breath into them. “Where is that freaking cold coming from?” asked Drew.

“How are we supposed to answer that question?” snapped Warren.

Brian stared at the lighting that was going bad and something else ignited his frustration. “Oh that is just great! Now the damned place has snakes!” he said in anger.

Drew’s eyes widened and his jaw slowly dropped. He responded, “What do you mean there are snakes?”

Brian answered, “Listen, can’t you hear it? It sounds like it is coming from the staircase.”

“Hssssssssss, hssssssss, hssssssssss.” The sounds got closer and got louder as the lighting decreased and the cold got more intense.

Warren stepped back and something told him to look over his shoulder. He looked behind him and his heart came to a dead stop. The coffins were shiny, golden, and untainted by nature or human hands. They lay side by side on the dusty floor in a neat and meticulous fashion. He counted them and the number was three! The other ones were unaccounted for.

Warren fought to catch his breath as he said, “H-h-h-hey, look at t-t-t-that!”

No answer. The darkness increased and the cold was freezing now.

“Hsssssssss, hssssssss, hsssssssssss!” It was getting closer. Warren turned his head and noticed he was all alone! Brian and Drew were gone! He shouted out in hysteria, “HEY WHERE ARE YOUUUUUU!!! HELP ME PLEASE, HELP ME!!!”

Just before he could make a run for the front door, the three coffin doors burst open. Warren ran to the coffins and was instantly paralyzed. Brian and Drew’s corpses lay nestled within, both neatly dressed in black three-piece suits!

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” He shouted to the door.

He prepared himself for the run of his life to the door when snow flakes began to fall from the ceiling and quickly turn the dust covered floor into a winter wonderland. Warren looked up at the cornice around the ceiling and noticed to his horror a huge cobra descend from above and down before him. “HSSSSSSS, HSSSSSSSS, HSSSSSSS!”

Warren shrieked and then was silenced immediately when Abraham’s ghost-white face appeared before him. Rage and retribution was written all over his features. “How do you like my work, my family of coffins? Go ahead and join your friends, Warren! I know you will like it here! We can all be a family! I will even put you in the family business!”

The face rasped in a demonic language. Warren fell to the floor and was placed in the third coffin by the Architect, Abraham Mortimer!

Speculations proved to be true. He was as mean as a snake and as cold as a winter day.

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