Coffins used to be built with holes in them, attached to six feet of copper tubing and a bell. The tube would allow for air for victims buried under the mistaken impression they were dead. In a certain small town, Harold, the grave digger, upon hearing a bell one night, went to see if it was children pretending to be spirits. Sometimes it was also the wind. This time, it wasn't either. A voice from below begged and pleaded to be unburied.
"Are you Sarah O' Bannon?" Harold asked.
"Yes!" The muffled voice asserted.
"You were born September 17, 1827?"
"Yes!"
"The gravestone here says you died February 20th, 1857."
"No, it was a mistake! Dig me up, set me free!"
"Sorry about this ma'am," stepping on the bell to silence it and plugging the tube with dirt. "But this is August. Whatever you are down there, you sure as heck ain't alive any more, and ain't comin' up."
YOU ARE READING
Creepypastas
FanfictionI know there are a lot of these, but I wanted to make a collection of my favorite creepypastas. I own none of these. The only thing I changed was that I edited out the cussing, so this is about as kid-friendly as creepy and murderous stories can get...
