Grave 2
The dark rain clouds were slowly enveloping the night sky as Vincent hastily dug up his soon to be grave. With several different divorces and custody cases over the last fifteen years, the only things he had left to his name were his shitty-ass car, the pistol sitting to the side of the hole we was digging, and this grave spot he had bought in the local cemetery decades prior in the case that his life were to end up just like it was now. These last three entitlements he had were clear indications that it was finally time to fold the hand that fate had dealt him and paint the bottom of this hole with his brain matter. Maybe whichever place he ended up would at least give him the common decency of recognizing his existence for a change.

The light sprinkles of the incoming rain storm pricked Vincent’s neck as he had about reached the bottom of his grave. His note pinned on the cemetery keeper's office near the entrance would make it clear that he only wanted the cemetery staff to throw the unearthed dirt back onto his corpse and leave it at that. Even if they didn’t, he still felt some form of comfort knowing that he would die on his own terms and in a place he owned. Any last bit of optimism in him came to a halt as his shovel drove into the dirt with a big thud.

Shocked and confused, he quickly scraped away the dirt from what ever he'd hit. Heavy drops of rain pounded on the wooden coffin he had uncovered. He was at first angered, thinking that the cemetery had used his reserved plot for someone else, probably for a quick buck. However, his anger turned to terror when he saw his family emblem engraved on the top of it.

None of his relatives had died recently that he could recall, so it must have been some really sick joke or something. He decided to pry the damn thing open and see the son of a bitch who had stolen his last residence. Almost ripping the top of the coffin off in a rage, he froze when he saw who was inside. Dressed in a black suit with perfectly groomed looks—was himself, or at least someone who looked damn well like him. He began to croak at this sight, disbelieving what he was seeing but knowing that it was still right there in front of him.

His frozen state quickly thawed when the man's eyes snapped open and looked up at him. A wicked smile crawled like an army of spiders across its cheeks, and it slowly raised its hand from its resting position towards the gravedigger. Vincent cried out as he scrambled for his pistol, his final saviour from this creature, but the coffin man’s hand grabbed his rain-drenched jacket and pulled down like a steam engine, dragging Vincent into the coffin. With a scream of pure terror, Vincent was restrained in the coffin man’s grasp as the rain blinded him.

“Welcome home, brother,” the coffin man gleefully whispered in Vincent’s ear, whose arms began to melt down towards him from the exhaustion of his struggle. His last thought was that of horror, horror that he would die in his own resting place by the hands of something he would never truly understand. He gave one last pathetic yelp as the coffin’s top crashed down upon the two and sealed them in darkness forever.