You dont understandI saw my son alive in a dream! screamed the poor mother, but no one believed her. So she grabbed a shovel and started digging up her sons grave.
Just a month ago, shed been completely differentfull of life, strong, always busy. But after burying her only son, it was like something inside her had burned away. Everything changed in weeks. Her hair turned almost entirely grey, her hands shook, her eyes were blank. She stopped eating, stopped talking to the neighbours, never left the house. Time stood still, and every morning, getting out of bed felt impossible.
Then one night, everything shifted. She dreamed of her son. He stood therenot in white, not as an angel, but alive. In his ordinary clothes, confused and scared. He took her hands and whispered, Mum, Im alive. Help me.
She woke up drenched in cold sweat, heart pounding. It wasnt just a dream. Something in his voice, in his eyesevery part of 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 exhumationpleaded, swore shed seen him in a dream. No one took her seriously. Its grief talking, they said gently. You need time and support, not to dig up graves.
But time didnt help. If anything, it got worse. Every night, she heard his voice again. Every night, he called for her.
One morning, before dawn, she took a shovelthe same one shed once used to plant trees with her son. She texted a friend and went to the cemetery.
The grave wasnt as deep as shed thought. The earth gave way easily. She dug slowly, breathless, her back achingbut with this strange, almost supernatural determination.
After an hour, she reached the coffin lid. She paused, pressed her hand against itas if she could hear breathing.
She opened it. And froze.
It was empty.
No body. No clothes. No trace.
At first, she thought shed lost her mind. But soon, an investigation began. The police couldnt ignore it anymoresecurity footage, autopsy reports, funeral witnesses, all of it was checked. And the deeper they dug, the stranger it got. Turns out, her sons body had never even arrived at the morgue.
The documents were forged. A nurse had quit the day after. And her son? Hed last been seen at a private clinic outside town.
Weeks later, the awful truth came out: the boy wasnt dead. Hed been part of a staged plotto cash in on his life insurance and disappear him, all for some twisted pharmaceutical experiment at a locked mental facility. Hed been kidnapped, and everyone had been convinced he was gone.
That mother became a hero. She didnt break; she didnt let grief drown her instincts. Because of her, her son was foundalive, though barely. Now theyre together again.
She says it often: I didnt bury my son. I buried my fear. And dug up the truth.
