Charlie

Even if they aren’t religious, most funeral directors tend to be a bit spiritual. At the very least, we believe in ghosts. Not the sheets with holes for eyes type ghosts (although, also VERY scary), but something completely different altogether.

We’ve sat around the table at happy hours and parties, debating on what the source of the strange noises and unexplained happenings could possibly be, but from THIS funeral director’s perspective, the answer is almost always GHOSTS.

The building I worked in had a lot of history, which meant it was haunted.

Like most young mortuary employees, I was skeptical, writing off the stories I’d heard as the veteran’s attempts to scare me.

Then I met Charlie.

Charlie was 17 years old and had ended his own life in Georgia. His parents had his body shipped back to California for burial.

From the moment the casket arrived in our preparation room, I felt something was wrong. After opening the casket to identify Charlie’s body, I felt a chill run down my spine.

His hair was jet black like squid’s ink. His skin was porcelain. His eyelashes were so blond, they were almost transparent.

I shuddered, closed the casket, and went back into the office.

It’s not uncommon for funeral directors to be in the mortuary long after business hours conclude to catch up on paperwork. There I was, getting ready to close up for the evening, and then I heard it.

WHAP! CRASH! SLAM!

I stopped in my tracks, and turned towards where the noise had come from.

The prep room.

I casually made my way back to the hallway, entered my access code, and entered.

 Nothing was out of place. In fact, everything was…perfect.

 I shrugged it off, and went to shut the lights off again.

 Then I heard it again.

 WHAP! CRASH! SLAM!

This isn’t funny.  I thought to myself. Believing that someone was playing a joke on me, I went back into the prep room.

Again, everything was just as it should be, in it’s place.

Except for one, tiny, but important detail.

Charlie’s casket was open. 

 I wish this were the part where I told you I engaged in full-out battle against the dead, tackling Charlie and making sure he was back in his casket, but that would be a lie.  I would even be satisfied to say that one of my coworkers had snuck in through the back to prank me, but that would also be a lie.

 The truth is— I got out of there as fast as my feet would take me, left the lights on, got in my car and drove away.

I worked in another one of the neighboring locations until Charlie was buried and his case was completely closed.

Because, forget that. I’m the girl who makes it to the end of the horror movie. 

4 Replies to “Charlie”

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