The Coffin That Floated Through Air

🕯️ The Coffin That Floated Through Air

Long ago, in the quiet town where my grandfather grew up, children weren’t scolded for misbehaving—they were haunted into obedience. Their parents spoke of ghosts and mysterious spirits, warning them never to wander after dark. But the one tale that struck deepest was of the coffin that floated in the air, drifting near the cemetery when the moon was hidden and the night hung thick with silence.

My grandfather, a mischievous soul even as a boy, wasn’t easily frightened. Despite years of hearing the legend, he had never once seen a floating coffin—or any ghost for that matter. Instead, he observed that even grown men roamed the night unafraid, unconvinced by tales of the supernatural.

And so, in a moment of playful rebellion, he hatched a plan—not to scare children, but to trick the adults themselves.

One moonless night, near the winding path by the cemetery, he tied a strong rope between two coconut trees. Then he carefully laid out a rolled-up mat made from romblon fibers and fastened it to the rope. At each end of the mat, he attached a string that allowed him to pull it back and forth between the trees.

But this wasn’t just any mat—it was a stage for illusion. He secured five glowing candles to its surface, ensuring they wouldn't tip or flicker. As midnight approached and footsteps echoed near the graveyard, my grandfather lit the candles and slowly began to reel the glowing mat across the darkened path.

From afar, the dim light revealed a silhouette—long, rectangular, flickering ominously as it moved between the trees. The travelers gasped, their whispers turning to screams.

"A coffin—it floats!" one cried.

Panic spread faster than the night wind. Doors flew open, neighbors rushed out, and chaos reigned near the cemetery. The legend had come alive.

But my grandfather, clever and quick, cut the ropes and hid the mat, vanishing into the shadows before anyone could trace the prank to its maker. When curious villagers returned to the site to confirm what they’d seen, there was no trace of the phantom coffin. And because of their fear, they believed it more deeply. Even the elders, once skeptical, began staying indoors after dusk.

From that night onward, the once lively roads near the cemetery grew quiet. What began as a story to keep children home had suddenly become real—because belief, once kindled, can outlive even the truth.

And as my grandfather liked to say:

"Don’t fear what cannot be seen. Fear those who walk with twisted minds—for they can make you believe in anything."

🌒 Lessons in the Shadows

• Perception can be more powerful than reality. People often fear the idea of something more than its truth.
• Stories shape behavior. Whether told with good intentions or mischief, tales can guide—or mislead—those who hear them.
• The real danger often lies in the living, not the dead. Sometimes, it's the minds behind the stories that hold the greatest mystery.
• Humor and mischief reveal creativity. My grandfather's prank was both unsettling and genius—a reminder that playful minds can reshape even the scariest stories.