Early morning. Mist still hovered over the water, waves lazily rolled toward the shore, and only the occasional cry of seagulls broke the silence. A fisherman, a man in his fifties named Tom, was walking toward his boat, habitually checking his gear.

And then he stopped.

At the edge of sand and rocks, where the waves barely touched the shore, lay something strange.
At first, he thought it was a washed-up crate or an old container—the sea often brought all kinds of debris. But as he got closer, a growing unease gripped him.

Before him lay a coffin.
Metal, rusty, completely covered in seaweed, as if it had been tossed by the waves for years.

“What the…” Tom breathed out, instinctively making the sign of the cross.

Around him—no one. Just the surf and the morning wind.
He stood there for a long moment, afraid to approach. Calling the police would have been the sensible thing, but curiosity overcame fear.

Carefully, he leaned in. The lock, corroded by salt and time, hung on the last hinge. One careful tug, and it came off.

The lid creaked as it opened.
And what Tom saw made him shiver.

Inside were human remains. White bones mixed with scraps of fabric—once, perhaps, part of a sailor’s uniform. A dull metallic tag gleamed on the chest, blackened with age.

Tom stepped back, his breath catching.
He looked around—the shore was still empty. Only the sea roared, seemingly indifferent to what had unfolded.

Later, when investigators and experts arrived, they discovered the coffin was around a hundred years old.
It likely belonged to a crew member of an old ship that sank at the beginning of the last century. During a storm, the coffin had been torn from the sunken hold, and the sea carried it all this time until it finally deposited it on the shore.

The story quickly spread through the area. People came to see the site, speaking of how the sea keeps its secrets for centuries—and reveals them only to those who know how to listen.

And Tom didn’t go out to sea alone for a long time after that. He said that night, when he found the coffin, the waves sounded different—as if they were whispering:

“Thank you for finding me.”