But the pieces were beginning to fit together in a terrifying way. Lucy suddenly yanked at Clara’s sleeve, her eyes wide with fear. Mama! Papa is crying! The entire church fell into a stunned silence.
Madam Rose took a step back. Others in the crowd looked at each other in growing dread. The child, she can really see him, someone murmured.
Clara swallowed hard and turned to Lucy. Lucy, what did you say? Lucy pointed at the coffin, her voice barely above a whisper. Papa is crying.
Papa is crying inside. The cold room suddenly became suffocating. Clara felt the blood in her veins freeze.
No, it couldn’t be. But then, a faint sound echoed from the coffin. Thud! No one spoke.
No one dared to move. Was it just an illusion? Then, the sound came again. Thud! Thud! This time, it wasn’t just Clara who heard it.
The crowd started to stir. Madam Rose trembled, making the sign of the cross over and over. Dear God! She whispered.
Margaret stammered, Clara, we should open the coffin. Clara couldn’t breathe. But just as she was about to step forward, a voice rang out.
No one is to touch it. Everyone turned. Henry had returned.
He stood at the entrance of the church, his eyes burning with anger. Don’t let superstition cause chaos. This is ridiculous.
But Clara couldn’t shake the growing dread. She looked around. The villagers were trembling, their eyes shifting between fear and doubt.
Thud! Thud! Another sound. Clara’s face turned pale. Henry clenched his fists, his voice laced with a dangerous warning.
No one is opening that coffin. But his very words only made Clara more certain. He was afraid of something.
The St. Michael’s Church church was silent, but fear spread through it like a raging storm. The knocking from the coffin left everyone frozen in place. The flickering candles on the altar cast trembling shadows on the cold stone walls.
Clara felt her heart nearly stop. She stared at the oak coffin the place where Lucy had just said Samuel was crying. No one is opening the coffin.
Henry’s voice rang out, sharp and frantic. Everyone calm down. It’s just the wind.
Just the wood contracting from the weather. But no one believed him. Wood contracting makes knocking sounds.
Madame Rose whispered, her eyes haunted. An elderly man, James, a longtime friend of Samuel’s father, stood up, his voice firm and unwavering. Henry, why are you afraid of opening the coffin? If you have nothing to hide, let us check.
I’m not afraid of anything. Henry nearly shouted. But Clara noticed how his hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
Matthew stepped forward, his eyes sharp as a blade. Then let us open it. Thud! The coffin knocked again.
Several women in the village shrieked, clutching on to one another. The somber funeral had transformed into a living nightmare. Lucy clung to her mother’s dress, tears welling in her big eyes.
Mama! Papa is calling you. Clara trembled, but something inside her was burning. She looked up at Henry, her unease turning into a deep, unsettling certainty.
What are you hiding, Henry? she demanded, her voice rough with emotion. Henry’s eyes widened. Are you insane, Clara? You want to open a coffin just because of a child’s nonsense.
And what about the knocking? Clara shot back. The wind! I told you, it’s just the wind, he nearly roared. Then let us open it and prove you’re right.
Matthew interrupted, stepping forward. No one spoke. The entire church held its breath.
Henry swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the coffin as if it were a monster. No, he screamed, his voice cracking. No one is to touch it.
But his outburst only condemned him further. James stepped forward, his old yet commanding voice cutting through the tension. Henry, if you keep resisting, you’re only making yourself look more suspicious.
Henry glared at him, his lips pressed into a tight line. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. Suddenly, Lucy let out a piercing scream.
Papa! Papa, I’m here! Her cry echoed through the church. Clara felt the floor beneath her feet tremble. Thud! Thud! The knocking grew louder.
Too loud to be an illusion. Some villagers panicked, fleeing toward the door, while others remained rooted in place, their eyes wide with horror. Margaret clutched at her shawl, her voice shaking.
If something is wrong, we have to check now. Madame Rose took a deep breath and spoke slowly. Call the priest.
If there is a trapped soul, he may be able to help. The mention of the priest made Henry go even paler. No! No one is calling anyone, he barked.
But Clara had had enough of the lies. She turned to Matthew, her voice firm and unyielding. Go get Father Manuel.
Right now! Henry lunged forward, trying to stop Matthew, but James grabbed his shoulder, gripping him tightly. You have no right to interfere anymore, Henry. His voice was cold.
Smack! Henry jerked his arm free, but the fear in his eyes was undeniable. Outside, the church bells tolled heavily, their echoes vibrating through the funeral hall. Matthew ran off to fetch the priest while inside the church, Clara stood frozen before her husband’s coffin, her heart pounding.
Lucy hiccuped, whispering through her tears. Papa, is waiting for Mama to open the door for him. A shiver ran down Clara’s spine.
Were her daughter’s words true? Or was this just the imagination of a grieving child? But then, what about the knocking? Henry was definitely hiding something. Clara scanned the room, seeing the fear-stricken faces of the villagers. Everyone understood this was no ordinary funeral.
Madame Rose pressed her hands together in desperate prayer. Margaret gripped her cloak tightly, murmuring. If Samuel isn’t dead, then maybe we still have time to save him.
But what if it was too late? That thought stabbed through Clara’s mind like a dagger. She couldn’t wait any longer. Whether the priest arrived or not, whether Henry tried to stop them or not, she would uncover the truth.
The church bells continued to toll, their heavy chimes reverberating through the grief-stricken air. No one was mourning Samuel anymore. Terror had consumed them all.
Thud! Thud! The knocking from the coffin continued, louder, more desperate. Clara felt her entire body freeze, but her mind was screaming. Was Samuel still alive? It couldn’t be, but what if he was? Cold sweat dripped down her back as her trembling hand gripped Lucy’s tightly.
The little girl was sobbing, her face stricken with fear. Mama! Papa is calling for help. Madame Rose whispered a desperate prayer while the villagers edged away, too afraid to approach the coffin but unable to look away.
Matthew had gone to fetch the priest, but Clara knew she couldn’t wait any longer. We have to open the coffin. Now! Her voice was clear, unwavering, but it struck like a bolt of lightning.
No! Henry roared, charging forward, his eyes wild with panic. Are you insane, Clara? This is ridiculous superstition. Who opens a coffin in the middle of a funeral? Clara spun around, locking eyes with him.
Then explain it, Henry. What are those sounds? Henry clenched his fists, his voice cracking with panic. The wind! I told you it’s just the wind.
Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? Clara roared, her eyes burning with fury. Henry opened his mouth to say something, but just then, Matthew appeared at the church doors. The priest is on his way.
He said no one is to touch the coffin until he arrives. No! Clara shouted. I can’t wait another second.
She lunged toward the coffin, reaching for the lid. But Henry suddenly rushed forward, grabbing her wrist. Clara, don’t be foolish, he growled, squeezing so tightly that pain shot through her arm.
Let me go, Henry. The entire church gasped in horror at Henry’s aggression, but he continued to shout. You can’t open it.
It’s disrespectful to the dead. Or, are you afraid of something? Clara’s words cut through Henry like a blade. He froze.
Taking advantage of his hesitation, Clara shoved him away and marched toward Samuel’s coffin. Matthew and James stepped forward as well. If Samuel is truly dead, we’ll see it for ourselves.
But if he isn’t? James’s voice was ice cold. Henry’s face turned ghostly pale. No, he screamed, but this time, no one listened.
Clara placed her hands on the coffin lid. Beside her, Lucy whispered through her tears. Papa! She took a deep breath.
She was ready to open it. But then… Slap! Henry’s hand shot out, striking Clara hard across the face. A collective gasp of horror echoed through the church.
Clara stumbled back, her head spinning from the impact. Matthew roared, lunging forward and grabbing Henry by the collar. What the hell is wrong with you? Henry struggled, but Matthew landed a brutal punch to his face, sending him crashing to the floor.
But Clara wasn’t focused on them anymore. Her hands remained on the coffin. And the knocking inside hadn’t stopped.
Thud! Thud! Tears streamed down Lucy’s cheeks. Mama! Papa is knocking! Clara clenched her jaw, her chest tightening with overwhelming tension. She didn’t care about Henry anymore.
She didn’t care about anyone’s objections. She was going to open the coffin. She had to know the truth.
Thud! Thud! The knocking continued, louder now, reverberating through the entire church. No one could deny it anymore. There was something inside that coffin.
Clara’s heart pounded like a war drum. She gripped the lid tightly, inhaling sharply. Open it! Her voice rang out, clear and resolute.