The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Coffin Maker

Estelle walked home from the library on that crisp autumn evening, her feet crunching against the fallen leaves that carpeted the sidewalk. She had spent hours poring over dusty tomes, researching for her thesis on 19th-century literature. As she turned a corner, she noticed an elderly woman standing by the streetlight, peering around uncertainly.

The old woman, dressed in a faded floral print dress and a worn cardigan, looked lost. Estelle's instincts kicked in, and she approached the woman. "Excuse me, ma'am, do you need some help? You seem lost."

The old woman, Roberta, turned to Estelle with a grateful smile. "Oh, dearie, I'm so glad you asked. I was visiting my friend, and I must have taken a wrong turn. I'm not sure how to get back home."

Estelle's heart went out to the elderly woman. "Don't worry, I can help you. Where do you live?"

Roberta hesitated for a moment before responding, "I live just a few blocks from here. If you could walk with me, I'd be ever so grateful."

As they strolled through the quiet neighbourhood, Estelle noticed that Roberta seemed to be leading her further and further away from the main streets. The houses grew older and more dilapidated, the yards overgrown with weeds. Estelle's unease grew, but she pushed it aside, attributing it to her vivid imagination.

Finally, they arrived at a small, unassuming bungalow with peeling paint and crooked shutters. Roberta smiled warmly and invited Estelle in. "Please, dear, come in. I'll make us a nice cup of tea to thank you for your kindness."

Estelle hesitated for a moment, but Roberta's friendly demeanour put her at ease. She followed Roberta into the cosy kitchen, where the old woman busied herself brewing tea. As they sipped their tea, Estelle noticed that it tasted slightly bitter, but she attributed it to the brand.

The next thing Estelle knew, she was waking up in a cold, damp basement. Her head pounded, and her mouth felt dry. She tried to sit up, but a searing pain shot through her head, forcing her back onto the concrete floor. As she struggled to gather her bearings, she noticed that her wrists and ankles were chained to the wall.

Panic set in as Estelle realized she was trapped. A faint light flickered from the corner of the room, illuminating Roberta's face. The old woman smiled, her eyes glinting with a sinister light.

"Welcome, dearie. I see you're awake. You're going to be here for a while, so I thought it would be nice to give you something to do."

Roberta handed Estelle a small toolbox and a pile of wooden boards. "I want you to build your coffin. It's only fitting, don't you think?"

Estelle's mind reeled as she stared at the tools and boards. This was insane. She refused to play along, but Roberta's expression turned cold, her eyes flashing with warning.

"If you don't comply, I'm afraid I'll have to persuade you," Roberta said, her voice dripping with malice.

Estelle tried to reason with Roberta, but the old woman was unyielding. As the days passed, Estelle was forced to work on her coffin, her body aching from the physical labour and her mind reeling from the psychological torment.

Roberta would visit Estelle regularly, taunting her with cruel words and inflicting pain on her if she didn't meet her expectations. Estelle's hope began to dwindle, and she wondered if anyone would ever find her.

As she worked on her coffin, Estelle realized that she was not Roberta's first victim. The old woman seemed to have a twisted fascination with death and the afterlife, and Estelle was just a pawn in her twisted game.

Determined to survive, Estelle continued to work on her coffin, all the while searching for a way to escape. She knew it was a long shot, but she had to try. As she hammered nails into the wood, Estelle's mind worked tirelessly to devise a plan, to outsmart Roberta and break free from her prison.

But for now, Estelle was trapped, forced to play along with Roberta's twisted game. As she worked on her coffin, she couldn't shake the feeling that she might not escape, that she might become Roberta's next victim, forever trapped in this basement, a prisoner of the old woman's sadistic whims.

As the days turned into weeks, Estelle's hope began to dwindle. She was starting to lose herself, to become a shadow of her former self. But deep down, she knew she couldn't give up. She had to keep fighting, no matter how small the chance of escape seemed.

And so, Estelle continued to work on her coffin, her eyes fixed on the tools, her mind working tirelessly to devise a plan, to outsmart Roberta and break free from her prison. She knew it was a long shot, but she had to try, for her sanity, and the sake of her survival.