The priest, sensing the rising tension, cleared his throat nervously and stepped forward, attempting to regain control of the situation. “My dear friends,” he began, his voice steady, yet colored with unease. “This is a time for mourning, for remembering the life of a beloved father and husband. Let us hold onto our faith and find comfort in knowing he is at peace.”

However, the little girl’s words had sparked a fuse that could not be easily extinguished. In that room filled with disbelief and dread, the coffin suddenly seemed to take on a life of its own. A faint sound, like the creaking of wood, echoed in the silence, causing everyone to hold their breath. The widow’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, her eyes wide with fear and a flicker of hope.

The little girl, emboldened by her father’s whispered plea that she alone seemed to hear, reached once more toward the coffin. Her tiny fingers brushed against the polished wood, and then, as if compelled by an unseen force, she pressed her ear to it. The room was so silent that each person’s heartbeat seemed audible.

And then it happened – a soft, unmistakable sound from within the coffin. It was a muffled thumping, weak yet persistent, as if someone were gently knocking from inside. Gasps erupted from the mourners, disbelief etched on their faces. The pallbearers, who stood nearby, exchanged looks of shock and uncertainty.

With a newfound urgency, the widow cried out, “Open it! Please, open it!” Her voice was a mixture of fear, hope, and desperation. The men hesitated only a moment longer before rushing to the coffin. With trembling hands, they unlatched it and slowly lifted the lid.