**Diary Entry**
*4th March, 2024*
*”You dont understandI saw my son alive in a dream!”* The poor mother screamed, but no one believed her. So, she took a shovel and began to dig up her sons grave.
Only a month ago, she had been completely differentfull of life, strong, always busy. But after burying her only son, it was as if something had burned her from the inside out.
Everything changed in weeks. Her hair turned almost grey, her hands shook, her gaze hollow. She stopped eating, stopped speaking to neighbours, never left the house. Time stood still, and each morning, dragging herself out of bed grew harder.
Then, one night, everything shifted. She dreamed of her son. He stood before hernot in white, not an angel, but alive. Worn clothes, confused, frightened. He took her hands and whispered, *”Mum, Im alive. Help me.”*
She woke drenched in sweat, heart pounding. It wasnt just a dream. Something in his voice, his eyeseverything in her screamed that he was alive, somewhere close, calling for her.
She went to the cemetery office, then the police, then forensic experts. She begged for an exhumation, swore shed seen him in a dream. No one took her seriously.
*”Its grief talking,”* the authorities said gently. *”You need time and support, not to dig up graves.”*
But time didnt help. If anything, it worsened. Night after night, she heard his voice. Night after night, he called for her.
One dawn, before sunrise, she took a shovelthe same one shed once planted roses with alongside her son. She messaged a friend, then walked to the graveyard.
The grave wasnt as deep as shed thought. The earth gave way easily. She dug slowly, breathless, back achingbut with an eerie determination.
An hour later, she reached the coffin lid. She paused, pressing her palm against itas if she could hear breathing.
She opened it. And froze.
The coffin was empty.
No body. No clothes. No trace.
At first, she thought shed gone mad. But soon, an investigation began. The police couldnt ignore it any longer. CCTV footage, autopsy reports, burial recordsall scrutinised.
The deeper they dug, the stranger it became. Her sons body had never arrived at the morgue.
Documents were forged. A nurse had quit the day after the funeral. And her son? Last seen at a private clinic outside London.
Weeks later, the awful truth surfaced: the boy wasnt dead. Hed been part of a staged plota life insurance scam, a disappearance orchestrated by a pharmaceutical company testing on patients at a secret psychiatric facility. Kidnapped, made to seem dead.
That mother became a hero. She didnt break. She didnt let grief silence her instinct. Because of her, her son was foundalive, though barely. Now, theyre together again.
She often says, *”I didnt bury my son. I buried my fear. And dug up the truth.”*
*Lesson learned: A mothers love defies even the grave. Never dismiss the unshakable.*
