The beginning life of the coffin in my dining room

It occurred to me that I have a coffin in my dining room. It's been there for a few months now gathering dust and looking pretty while being filled with my Living Dead Dolls. But there are so many uses for it. So I figured I'll share a few of those ideas and see where they lead me. I mean how many people can boast they have an actual coffin in their dining room? It's nothing elaborate, a six foot, black painted pieces of wood that were going to be either thrown out or chopped into firewood if we didn't take it.

The poor coffin would have been lonely if we hadn't taken it into our house and given it a home. I admire it every day. My husband even agreed that it should be a permanent part of the decor. While it lay on the floor for a few weeks waiting to get its finally purpose out of its coffin life, it was filled with old Halloween decorations crying out for their owner to reclaim them. Once that happened, it was left parked in the middle of dining room,longing for the days when someone would pop out of it again and scare little children, doing the purpose for which it was built. Oh where was the warm body who filled its wooden walls? Where were the terrified screams of those who walked by it during the frightful night? The house it now lived in was quiet and filled only with the sound of barking dogs.

The poor coffin longed for its heyday. The new owner finally sat it on its right end and creaked open the door so its intimate interiors was exposed to all the world. Soon the owner stocked it with smaller coffins that plastic dolls laid in. Those dolls whispered within their own darkened death boxes and they wanted to be released from their prisons.

For months, those dolls plotted their revenge. They murmured their plan to the coffin, asking it to keep it quiet. The coffin wasn't going to tell because it yearned for the same thing. Freedom. The coffin watched one night as the dolls slowly pushed the plastic covers from their coffins and jumped from within its wooden walls. The owner was home alone while her husband worked. The dolls' plastic joints groaned in the night while they advanced on the sleeping woman. The dogs didn't awake, but the woman's screams filled the house as the dolls enacted their dastardly plan. One of them wandered back into the dining room with a bloody mouth, carrying the woman's big toe. The Living Dead zombie doll smiled, showing it's bloody teeth. It pulled the nail from the toe and then laid it at the bottom of the coffin as an offering. The coffin opened its door a little wider, satisfied that it was finally being taken care of.

Tune in next week to see what else happens to the coffin in my dining room.