A boy who got a job working in a cemetery. It was not the type of work he would normally choose, but his dad was friends with the undertaker and had convinced him to take the job, despite his fear dead bodies.
It was a very eerie place to work and after being there for over a week, the boy still got the creeps when he caught sight of a corpse. Luckily, he didn’t have to get anywhere near the dead bodies.
His work consisted mainly of digging graves, sweeping, polishing and cutting grass. His boss, the undertaker, was the one who prepared the dead bodies for burial.
The scariest things were the vaults. Families bought these large tombs and every member of the family who died was placed inside the vault in a coffin. It creeped him out to think about all those bodies lying around inside the dusty chambers and secret rooms.
The boy gradually got used to working in the cemetery and everything went well until, one evening, the unthinkable happened.
While he was inside one of the vaults, sweeping the floor and polishing the nameplates, a gust of wind blew the vault door shut. He realized, to his horror, that he was trapped in the crypt, surrounded by dead bodies in coffins, with no one to help him. His worst nightmare was coming true.
He shouted and hollered but it was no use. The undertaker’s house was too far away and nobody could hear him. As the hours passed by, the desperate boy realized that he would have to rely on himself, and began trying to think of a way out.
There was a small open window, high up above the vault door. Unfortunately, it was much too high to reach. Looking around the tomb, he decided that he could use the coffins. If he stacked them up, one on top of the other, they could form a flight of steps.
After stacking the coffins up against the door, the boy climbed up them, gingerly, taking care not to tip them over. Just when he thought his plan was working, he stepped on the top coffin and the wood gave way under his weight. His foot went straight through the coffin lid and he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his leg.
Crying out in agony, he could picture the splintered wood and rusty nails slicing into his skin. The stack of
began to wobble and for one horrifying moment, he thought he was going to lose his balance and tumble down to the stone floor.
Luckily, he managed to grab onto the window and steady himself. He could feel blood trickling down his leg.
Despite the pain he was in, the boy pulled himself up and began shaking his leg to free himself from the coffin lid. The stack of coffins tipped over and clattered to the ground.
Clinging to the window, the boy pulled with all his might and crawled through the narrow opening. He dropped down on the outside and limped towards the undertaker’s house to get help.
The undertaker came out and found the poor boy lying on his doorstep, clutching his bleeding leg. He carried the boy to his car and drove him straight to hospital.
After the doctor washed off all the blood, he began to examine the boy’s wounds.
“How did you get these injuries?” asked the doctor.
“I got cut by some broken pieces of wood,” said the boy.
“But these aren’t cuts,” said the doctor. “They’re human bite-marks…”
🌚🌚🌚
David Everson had just finished eating a small TV dinner and was preparing himself for bed. He was trying to get used to his new apartment, because it was his first time living alone. It was sad that, at the age of 32, he was just moving out of his parents’ basement.
Now, he could have all the fun he wanted without any complaints.

David undressed down to his T-shirt and boxers. It was a little past midnight. He’d spent the whole day moving his things into the apartment. David lay down in his cozy bed. Just when he had laid his head on the pillow, he started hearing faint voices.
The sound seemed to be coming from the floor above him. It sounded like a man and a woman.
At first they were talking softly, but then it got louder and louder. They seemed to be arguing with each other. David had to get up for work the next morning and he needed all the sleep he could get. He put the pillow over his head and tried to block out the noise, but the voices seemed to seep through.
Finally, when the voices began screaming, David couldn’t take it anymore. He got out of bed, fetched a broom from the kitchen and banged the tip of it against the ceiling. That didn’t stop the voices.
“Stop yelling!” he cried. “Some people have to work in the morning!”
Suddenly, the voices stopped. Just like that. There was an eerie silence.
David was satisfied and went back to lie down in bed. He once again got warm and comfortable. He was halfway adrifting off to sleep when the voices started up again.

The guy’s voice boomed loudly and the woman’s shrill screech drowned him out. They were yelling over each other and David couldn’t make out what either of them was yelling about.
Now, he was really steamed. He groggily climbed out of bed, got the broom and jabbed at the ceiling again with all his might.
“Stop screaming!” he yelled. “I’ll call the cops right now if you don’t knock it off!”
Again, the voices died down just as quickly as they had started. He began to wonder why the voices died down so fast. But as long as he could get his sleep, he was okay with it.
Then, just as he made his way back into his bed, a loud BANG erupted through his ears. It had come from the ceiling.
Then, a deep, raspy voice shouted down to him, “You shut up, punk! You yell at me one more time and I’ll kill you. Just… like… my wife.”
Suddenly, David’s heart flipped in his chest. He was nervous, but still steamed at the threat. He grabbed the phone on his bedside table and called the apartment manager to file a complaint.
The phone was answered after the third ring.
“Hello?” said the tired voice at the end of the line.
“Hello, sir,” said David. “I’m sorry for calling you so late at night, but I’ve got a complaint.”
“Which is…?” the manager yawned.
“The people in the apartment above me are constantly yelling at each other,” replied David. “I have a job I have to go to in the morning and I can’t sleep with them screaming like that.”
“Tell me your apartment number and I’ll send someone over immediately,” the manager replied.
David gave him the apartment building and number. Then, there was a long silence at the other end of the line.
“Are you sure that’s the correct information?” the manager asked in a strange tone.
“A hundred percent positive,” David assured him. “I know my own address.”
There was another long silence.
“And you said the yelling was coming from the apartment above you?” the manager asked.
“Yes sir,” David replied, getting annoyed with the questions.
“That seems highly unlikely sir,” the manager said, sounding a bit confused.
“Why?” David asked.
“Because your apartment is on the top floor,” said the manager. “There are no other apartments above yours