The rain fell steadily that day, as if the sky itself mourned with them. Each drop tapped against the old corrugated iron roof, blending with the slow, sorrowful sound of funeral trumpets. In the center of the yard, a golden coffin rested on two wooden chairs.
Around it sat friends, neighbors, and loved ones — all with bowed heads, their hearts weighed down by grief. Elena, the young woman inside that coffin, had touched every soul in that yard. She was only 25.
In just a short time, Elena had become more than a daughter-in-law to the family who welcomed her. She had become the heart of the home — respectful, kind, and always putting others before herself. Mrs.
Helen, her mother-in-law, used to say with pride, “Any family would be lucky to have a daughter-in-law like Elena.”
But less than two years after joining their family, the unthinkable happened. It had started with stomach pain. Elena clutched her belly late into the night, trying to stay quiet, not wanting to cause a fuss.
When the pain grew unbearable, she was rushed to the hospital. By the time they arrived, she was already slipping away. Doctors tried everything they could, but Elena never opened her eyes again.
She didn’t get the chance to hear her child’s first cry. She didn’t get to hold the baby she had carried with so much hope. The entire family was shattered.
Mrs. Helen collapsed in tears. Her husband, Mr.
Louis, sat still — silent and stunned — his eyes fixed on the smiling portrait of Elena now resting atop the coffin. In the photo, she looked radiant. Full of life.
No one could believe she was gone. When it was time to carry the coffin to the hearse, eight young men stepped forward to lift it. They each took their place, bent down, and pulled — but it wouldn’t budge.
They tried again. And again. It was as if the coffin had been rooted to the ground.
Veins strained, hands shook, faces turned red with effort — but the coffin refused to move. An elderly man in the crowd whispered what many were already thinking: “She’s not ready to go.”
The air grew heavier. The rain continued.
The shaman, standing nearby, stepped forward and gently said, “Open the coffin. She still has something to say.”
The latch was slowly removed, and the lid carefully lifted. A gasp rippled through the crowd.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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