The blade of a circular saw screamed through a pinewood board, spitting sawdust. A ten-pound hammer crushed the head of a nail, sinking it into the wood. He crushed another, and another; the speed of his handiwork conveying its urgency.

Seven year old Anna was sitting on the floor of her upstairs bedroom shaking. She peered down into the basement through an air vent in the floor to see what her father was doing.

He stepped aside for a moment from his hammering to grab some more nails.
Anna saw what he was making - a homemade coffin...a small coffin.
Sensing Anna's stare, her father glanced up over his shoulder. Anna ducked out of sight, running to her bed and hiding under her covers. She picked up her phone and dialed Miss Morrison, her school counselor's emergency number.

A woman answered the phone. "This is Jane Morrison."

"Miss Morrison?" Anna asked in a child's whisper.

"Anna...?"

"Yes…

"Anna? Are you okay?"

"I'm scared..."

"Why? Why are you scared, honey?"

"My dad wants to hurt me again. I can hear him...I don't know what to do.”

"Okay, listen honey, I'm going to call the police...you just hold on, I'm on my way too. Okay?"

"Okay...Please hurry," starting to cry."

"Just stay where you are."

"Okay, I will."

Miss Morrison telephoned the police, then dropped the phone. Throwing a coat on over her bed clothes she fumbled with her keys to find the right one. Opening her car door she started the engine and peeled off down the road.

Anna's cell phone turned itself off, plunging the room into total darkness. Outside her room footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, then down the hall. Stopping at her door, the knob turned with a click of the latch. The door opened. A shaft of light fell on her father peering in with frenzied anticipation.

Arriving at Anna's house, Miss Morrison pulled up alongside two police cars. Leaving her car she ran to the door and knocked.

An officer answered. 'Yes?"

"Is Anna okay?" Stepping into the room past the officer.

"I'm Detective Marlow. And you?”

"Jane Morrison, I called you. Please, is Anna alright?"

"She's fine Miss Morrison. Why would you call the police? I just put her to bed an hour ago. I'm her father, Jim Carlson," walking into the room.

"Carlson?" Omg...it's the wrong Anna. That's right I have two," looking over at the Detective. "Please hurry...5535 Alpine Lane...omg, why didn't I think?"

"Alright Miss Morrison, we'll check it out. It's just a few streets over. Let's go," motioning to the other officers. "We're done here."

Anna had fallen asleep...totally exhausted. The time had come. Slowly, quietly, her father picked her up in his arms and slowly descended the stairs with Anna in his arms. He had a roll of duct tape hanging from his carpenter overalls.

Reaching the bottom floor, he slowly turned and guided his steps down the basement stairs towards a small side room where the coffin was waiting. Delicately, cradling her head, he put Anna into the coffin without waking her. But as he closed the lid, one of the metal hinges cracked. Anna opened her eyes, looked up and screamed.
Her father ripped off a piece of duct tape and covered her mouth, pressing her down and closing the lid of the coffin.

Miss Morrison lurched to a stop in front of the other Anna's house as she jumped out of her car. The police had already arrived.

"Miss Morrison, can I have a word?" The Detective walking towards her.

"Is she okay? Where is she?"

"There's no one here. The house is empty...for sale. You didn't know?"

"Can't be. Please! She did call me! I swear she did...omg...wait a second. That Mr. Carlson...Jim Carlson, he was wearing carpenter overalls, it's him. We have to go back now. He's gonna bury her!"

"Just hold on Morrison. Are you trying to play me? Maybe I should take you in."

"Forget it. He'll kill her, I know. You don't wanna help? Then screw you. I'll get her," jumping into her car peeling out of the driveway. 

Anna jolted awake and pushed open the coffin lid before her father could shut it again. With animal terror she thrashed her way out onto the basement floor. Her father wrestled her back into the coffin, closing the lid. Grabbing his hammer with a handful of nails he started to seal the top, as...Miss Morrison's car lurched to a stop out front. As she jumped out a single police car followed her up to the front of the house. She pounded on the door as the officer joined her.

"Police, open up!"

"Kick it in. We gotta kick it in," looking at the officer.

"Alright," using his boot to slam the door handle...the front door crashing down, kicked off its hinges. They raced in towards the basement.

"Down here, hurry," Morrison scrambled down the stairs, both rushing in towards Anna's father.

The officer shoved Jim Carson aside, slicing him over the head with his nightstick; then threw open the coffin and pulled Anna out onto the basement floor. Two other officers arrived and immediately handcuffed Mr. Carlson.

Pajamas ripped, wild with terror, Anna cried in great heaving sobs in Miss Morrison's arms. Reduced to tears herself, she kept saying the same thing over and over, "I gotcha... I gotcha... I gotcha..."

• Story by Abbie Stewart
• Photo: Abandoned Funeral Home
• © 2020 ABBIE STEWART ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ON WRITTEN MATERIAL