Prompt: "The smallest coffins are heaviest."

Venn slowly came to with a groan. He had hit his head hard when he fell down the stairs. He put a hand to his forehead as he sat up. He did a mental diagnosis of any injuries. Bumps and bruises mostly, except for maybe a concussion.

He snapped into full alertness suddenly. He hadn't been ghost touched. Which meant the ghost hadn't been targeting him, like he and Zip had expected.

That meant Zip was in danger.

Venn scrambled to his feet. "Zip! Hey Zip! Where are you?"

He got no response.

He bolted through every room before he found Zip in the entryway. A silver net was wrapped tightly around a gold pocketwatch near his hand. His neck was swollen and purple from ghost touch, as were his hands. He was dead.

Venn fell to his knees. "ZIP!" Even though he could see that Zip wasn't breathing, Venn still clung to a desperate hope that he was alive.

The hope was dashed a few seconds later. The usually calm and composed Venn broke. He knelt there for the rest of the night, sobbing.

Venn had insisted on helping to carry his brother's coffin. He was shorter than the other three men on the other corners. The dark oak coffin felt like it was made of stone in Venn's hands.

He would have collapsed from the weight if most of it hadn't been emotional. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes glued on the floor.

The smallest coffins really were the heaviest.