The Coffin
            I will never forget the day Asher and I found the coffin. We had been kids, then, only eight and nine respectively. We were neighbors, and every day that the weather was nice, we would head into the forest, to play ninjas or Indians or to build forts. The summers were especially fun, because the days were long and there was always plenty of time to explore and play.
            The summer I turned eight, Asher and I decided that we wanted to build our biggest fort ever. We would need a lot of space in the forest to do it, and so we spent the first couple weeks of summer just exploring, scouting out our perfect spot for a fort with kitchen knives and lengths of rope. There were several clearings in the forest, probably leftover from when my house—the bigger of the two—was the only house on the road, and whoever owned the house before us owned all of the land behind it. There was even this old aboveground pool in the middle of the forest that Asher and I could catch frogs in.
            The day we found the perfect clearing for our fort, the sky had been threatening rain all morning. Usually, our sleepy little town didn’t get much rain in the summer, but the few storms we did have were practically on the level of typhoons. Asher hadn’t wanted to go, but I persuaded him with, “Today might be the day we find our perfect clearing! We’ll never know if we don’t go out today!” So, Asher had reluctantly agreed, and we left, taking our umbrellas this time.
            That day, we focused on the southeast side of the forest, south of our houses. And as we were walking, we came upon a row of bamboo, undoubtedly from when the forest was part of the estate. Now, it was overgrown and mangled since no one had been around to take care of it all these years. There was an ancient-looking wall beside it, the stone that built it crumbling and cracked. I ran my hand along it, looking awe-struck, I’m sure. Being the kids that we were, it was probably the oldest thing I had ever seen in my life. Asher had a surprised look on his face, probably wondering why bamboo was growing in New Hampshire. But, looking back, I have decided that it was just decorative, that whoever used to own the land had planted it to mark something off. “Let’s go!” I proclaimed, immediately wanting to know what was behind the bamboo.
            I took out the knife I had, beginning to cut away at a few stalks of the bamboo. As they fell away, I made a hole big enough for us to fit through before I poked my head through. Inside was a large circular clearing, the grass long and unkempt. It looked like no one had ever been there before. In the center of the clearing, I saw what looked like a concrete box, but it was oddly shaped. Frowning, I crawled back out and looked at Asher. “I think this is our clearing!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up. “C’mon, let’s go!”
            I crawled through the hole I had made, the knees of my pants soon caked in dirt. Once I was through, I stood up, watching Asher follow me through. Now that I was at a better angle, I could see it: the coffin. I had never been to a funeral in my life, and this was the first coffin I had ever seen, so I was understandably struck by a feeling of quiet reverence. At least, that was what I thought it was. I walked to the coffin, looking at the stone box. I ran my hand along it, frowning some.
            “That’s a coffin, right?” Asher asked, stepping towards it. “That’s so cool!” He placed his hands on the lid of the coffin, looking all along it in a state of near-awe. Asher pushed on the lid of the coffin, but it wouldn’t budge.
            “Stop playing with that thing. We gotta clean up the clearing so we can build our fort!” I told him, picking up a handful of sticks. I took them to the edge of the clearing, tossing them into the brush. Asher followed suit, and soon, we had cleared out a decent-sized space for the fort. “I think that this is big enough…” I told him, my gaze falling once more on the coffin.
            Asher followed me, and with our combined strength, we were able to move it a couple inches.
            A blast of cold air whooshed out of the coffin.
            The sky seemed to darken almost immediately.
            The wind picked up, throwing about our hair and clothes.
            Simultaneously, Asher and I peered inside. In the sudden darkness of the sky, we couldn’t see what was inside of the coffin, but a feeling of immediate and deafening dread filled me, and I knew from the look on Asher’s face that he was feeling the same thing.
            “Run!” I screamed, bolting back towards the bamboo. We both made our way through the hole and back into the forest, screaming the whole way. Asher and I got lost as we tried to get as far away from the coffin as possible. By the time we got back to our homes, it was past dark, and our respective families were wondering why we were so shaken up. But we couldn’t explain what it was, why we were so fearful of what we had seen.
            That summer, we never went back into the forest. Nor for the next three summers, either, until I moved to Middle of Nowhere, Montana. After that, I don’t know what Asher did, if he ever got brave enough to go into the forest again or not. All I knew was that I would never go back there again. I didn’t need an explanation or some final closure, all I needed was the knowledge that I never had to go back there again.