Days had past and George was still distraught from the death of his humble Grandfather. He replayed old but loving memories of them fishing together and  always trying to catch the biggest fish in the lake he even remembered the days his Grandfather would teach him how to nurture a  vegetable garden or ride a tractor on his spacious property; tears fell from his eyes and he then re visited the thought of his grandfather's pale hands, and crackling voice upon the days of his death. George's mum always made a remark to Grandfathers lack of memory, it sounded something like this - " oh sweetie don’t worry, Grandfathers just lost his marbles", George could never understand this statement and was confused because he would never see his grandfather play with marbles unlike other elders. The morning before the funeral service George wished to have a moment in the church alone with his Grandfather's lifeless body, wrapped away in the brown wooden coffin, suddenly, the lights began to flicker, some had blown and glass shattered over George's head, he began to feel uneasy, as he stepped back, away from the glass, the church doors slammed shut! BANG! George instantly fell to his knees as fear was overwhelming him. The coffin where his Grandfather lay, began to shake, George could feel the vibrations from the floor, it was shaking and turning ready to fall off its stand………! Then one by one marbles began to fall from the wooden lid of the coffin, then a rush poured out like tidal waves hitting rocks. No one had been inside the church before George and no one had touched his grandfather who now no longer lays inside this coffin. 

George never would have guessed a coffin could hold so many marbles. When the man at the booth finally announced that the coffin had exactly 15,000 marbles George was amazed. He had only guessed 4000, what a fool he was. Realising he would not win the big prize, he sulked away. He was astonished and disappointed at the same time, and for the rest of the day all George could think about was how a coffin could hold so many marbles. Finally, it was time to leave the show, but George wanted to take one last look at the coffin. He walked right up to it and when he looked closely he noticed something wasn’t right, something was odd. It hit George like a bus, this coffin was a fake, it had no bottom! He knew a coffin couldn’t hold that many marbles, the booth owner was no where in sight. George sighed, he would never really know how many marbles a coffin could hold. 

George never world have guessed a coffin could hold so many marbles. 

It was odd, a little too odd, for something that his father cherished he didn’t anticipate that his casket  would be filled with such small things. His obsession had driven him mad, most likely to the point of insanity. It was his only treasure, these marbles. Fuck the kids that he was supposed to love whilst his mother was in the presence of death, it was these shitty things that he could only care about. His sister however had no remorse for his death. 

Why was George there? Well he was trying to find out who exactly put his father in this exact position so he could see his father's pathetic state, as he wasn’t able to attend the funeral. Looking onward he couldn’t deny their beauty, each individual marble like a priceless gem. He moved the marbles away from the surface, anticipating his father's face to look him directly in the eyes to laugh. To mock. However there was no body. Why and how in the hell did his body disappear? Did he magically get up and leave, then how was the coffin so full, only his precious marbles locked away within it, unless someone moved him out of there, or even better yet, that sick bastard faked his own death. George's heart sank  slightly, he felt it constrain against what felt like nothing but what was pissing him off then. That psycho maniac is probably free in the world doing his own business, living his life in a ditch, festering among his shitty possessions. 

George never would have guessed a coffin could hold so many marbles. After we had travelled about 3-4km we had found an abandoned broken down hut where we found multiple coffins, all filled with different things, one filled with marbles, so many marbles, another half filled with yo-yos and another with jelly in it. For some reason George was so intrigued that a coffin could hold so many marbles that he wasn't getting past the fact we just found a rundown shack in the middle of a creepy forest. He stood there for 5 minutes, mouth wide open, eventually on his knees because he lost his thoughts just staring at the coffin as if he had no soul. 

 "Come on George, we have to leave, what is with you anyway?", rambled Josh. "Let's leave anyway, mum has dinner cooking, I bet it will be ready by the time we get back." 

"No!", yelped George, "I'm taking the marbles with me!". 

George started to flip out, he was scattering marbles everywhere trying to drag them home, 

"Let me take them! Let me take them!", screamed George frantically. It was almost dark and George was still persisting on getting these marbles home, still not knowing why he was so interested in the marbles and not the jelly or yo-yos. I was hungry and I could tell George wasn't stopping until he got them home. Whilst trying to convince George to give it up I noticed a wooden figure lying on the ground so I went back and picked it up, told George I was sorry and clubbed him across the head, I felt bad at the time but after dragging him home I just ate that home-cooked spaghetti and tried to forget about what happened. 

 

He was afraid that that sound would give the plot away. 

So he packed in some paper, and poured in some glue, so that when the coffin moved the racket would be muffled or wouldn't sound at all. This plan had to work. He had to escape.

While he formulated this plot, he stared at the ceiling and watched the shadows outside flick shapes onto the peeling paint. He listened to the roar of trucks passing on the highway and the sirens as they announced another deathly call. He realised his life had become an endless, meaningless cycle of boredom which circled and spun in the same way each day. He was so tired of it all, and he hated the way that the life that he used to hold dear had contorted monstrously to devour his will to continue. So he decided it was time to let it all go, and to return to the peace which he experienced as a young child.

He wasn't leaving behind anything but a meagre, underpaid job at the local café, and the little spider named Brutus in the corner of the room. 

When this plan succeeded, his funeral bring him back to life.