If you find a lone coffin late at night on the London Underground, please don't touch it. It could save your life.
When the coffin first appeared on the night service of the Jubilee line, I was the first to discover it. It was the most bizarre and yet innocuous thing. It looked like it belonged there but it absolutely didn’t. It stood, leaning against the door, the bright fluorescent lights bounced off it like rays of the sun. It was a deep, dark brown; made of oakwood. There was not a single scratch on it, it was brand new and without blemishes.
I found it whilst I was performing my nightly cleaning duties - I used to work on the London Underground. My job consisted of many things but essentially my forte was the Lost and Found. A dull, thankless and uninspiring job but it paid the bills so I rarely complained. I had a daughter to support after all.
I radioed my colleague Jason who was just as confused and creeped out as I was.
“What do we do with it?” He asked.
“Well, it can’t stay here. We’re going to have to move it to the lost and found.” I replied, feeling a little foolish.
“Who the fuck loses a coffin??” He asked.
I didn’t have a reply. What could I say? He was right, who in the world misplaces a coffin? It just doesn’t happen. Yet here we were, staring the impossible in the face.
“Come on, we’ve gotta move it.” I said, tugging Jason’s torn sleeve.
As we neared, the air suddenly thickened. Akin to the sudden change in climate as you step off a plane in a hot country. It was suffocating. I turned to look at Jason and saw the sweat forming on his brow. He felt it too. I placed a sweaty palm on the surface of the coffin and it chilled my skin, it was so cold. When we eventually lifted it, it was as light as a feather - indicating to us both that it was indeed empty. Had to be.
We carried it all the way to the lost and found booth, in total silence. Neither of us spoke; we felt like we couldn’t. As if speaking out of turn would serve as some kind of disrespect to the dead. It was silly, I know but we felt compelled. At least I know I did.
Not knowing what else to do, we left the coffin inside a disused closet and that’s where it stayed. Until the next morning at least.
When I arrived into work the very next day, I found Jason in the lost and found booth, his face as pale as the moon.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked up at me, eyes all glassy and watery.
“Something...happened.” He said softly.
“What?! What the fuck happened, Jason.”
“They found something weird on the tube last night, man.” He said, not taking his eyes off the closet where we left the coffin.
“Weird how? What do you mean?” I asked. He was starting to annoy me, being all cryptic.
“There was so much blood. It was everywhere. It covered the walls, the floor, the seats.” He said, I could hear the fear that dogged his voice.
“Jesus. What was it? Suicide?”
“Without a body?” He asked.
He was right, of course.
“There is something else.” Jason said, glancing at the closet door.
“What?” I asked.
“The coffin is gone.”
When I walked over and opened the closet door, I saw that the coffin was no longer inside. We checked the camera’s and no one went in and out of the Lost and Found that night. It was as if the coffin vanished into thin air, it wasn’t possible of course but it happened. It was gone.
That day went by in a blur - we had police crowding the station and the aforementioned train. Everyone was left with more questions than answers, including the police. They interviewed me and Jason, we weren’t even on shift that night so there wasn’t a lot we could say, nothing we could help with. We didn’t mention the coffin though, we didn’t think anyone would believe us and why would they? The events were perplexing enough as it is and we didn’t want to add more fuel to the already roaring fire. What was the point? The coffin was gone and I just wanted to forget about it.
Jason and I worked the rest of that day in total silence, not a single word passed between us. I guess the utter ridiculousness of everything that occurred in the last 24 hours really got under our skin. I couldn’t stop thinking about the coffin. Why was it there? Who put it there? What did it mean? It was downright eerie and it burrowed deep into my heart like an earthworm. I also feared it. Everyone fears coffins though, don’t they? I guess it’s because they represent death and as humans, we all fear it's eventual grasp on us all. Was I experiencing some sort of mortal dilemma? I wasn’t sure. Death is something I seldom understood and not something I’ve had first hand experience with.
Not until I discovered that coffin for the second time.
It was a few days after the first encounter - I was working the night shift that night. I was alone, Jason hadn’t showed up for work that morning. I tried to call him but he wouldn’t answer his phone. I was worried but I didn’t know why. He’s fine, just sick, I told myself.
I got onto the westbound Jubilee train, black back in tow and that was when I saw it again. Its obtrusive presence suffocating the small carriage. It was so much bigger than I remembered it. I was cautious as I approached it, wary of any sudden movements I made. I don’t know why, I honestly can’t say why I felt so terrified. I guess that’s how you react when you are faced with something unexplainable. What the fuck was it doing here again?
I got the sudden urge to open it. This feeling of overwhelming need washed over me as I stood inches from it’s glistening oakwood finish. My trembling hand reached out, as if not my own and touched the smooth exterior. I felt a vibration underneath my moistened finger tips, as if something quivered within. Something was inside.
I opened the coffin and peered inside. What I saw almost made my heart leap out of my chest.
Within the casket, I saw blood. So much blood. As my eyes adjusted, I saw bits of jagged flesh hanging limply inside, as if cut by a serrated blade. Peering in closer, it looked like the coffin was bottomless and all I could see looking inside was pure darkness. I retrieved a torch and hesitantly, flicked the switch. There were bloodied chains and stained hooks, one of which had a disembodied, rotten human arm attached to it. Body parts lay strewn across the soiled bottom of the coffin and I gagged as the smell travelled up my nostrils. It was a sweet and yet sickly scent - the smell of meat under a hot sun.
As I backed away, that was when I saw something else that caught my eye. It was a lanyard and attached to it was an access card. An access card that only an employee would have. My blood chilled in my veins as I saw the name that was written on it’s blood-soaked surface.
Jason Brown
I got the fuck out of there then - rushed to get someone, anyone who could help. I called the police and waited anxiously. I tried Jason again multiple times but his phone was dead - all I could hear was static.
When the police arrived at the scene that night, all traces of the coffin had been erased - it had vanished once more. Everyone deemed me to be a time waster, an idle lunatic. I know what I saw though - the images had been imprinted on the insides of my retinas and it’s something I would never forget. The coffin made sure I wouldn’t forget.
Jason was never found.
Tonight was my last shift, I couldn’t do it anymore so I quit. Seeing what I saw and had taken its toll on my somewhat fractured brain. For my last shift, I refused to work the westbound Jubilee train as I knew what would be waiting for me, if I did.
I was cleaning out one of the Northern Line carriages when my phone pinged. It was from my daughter, Angie.
Hey Dad!
I’m just on the westbound Jubilee train, the last train of the night. I’ve got reception so I thought I’d send you a text so you don’t worry. Hoping you’ll get this before I cut out again.
It’s a little eerie! The train is totally empty apart from me but I can see something tall and brown in one of the further carriages. I hate being in these carriages alone so late.
See you soon! Love you.
Posted Jan 26, 2021, 10:36 AM UTC