The child’s voice rang through the silence, trembling yet insistent:
“Daddy… I saw you blink.”
The words cut through the hall like a blade. For a moment, everyone stood frozen, torn between pity and unease. The mother stroked her daughter’s hair, whispering:
“Sweetheart, no… it’s just your imagination. Daddy’s gone.”
But the girl shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“No! I saw it! He moved his eyes!”
A murmur rippled through the mourners. Some exchanged doubtful glances, others frowned. Then, one of the men standing closer to the coffin leaned forward hesitantly.
And his face drained of all color.
“Wait…” he muttered, his voice shaking. “I think… I saw it too.”
Gasps filled the hall. People surged forward, crowding around the coffin. A pair of trembling hands reached out, touching the man’s wrist.
It was warm.
Suddenly, the “dead” father’s chest gave the faintest rise — shallow, struggling, but unmistakably alive.
The girl cried out in triumph:
“See! I told you! Daddy was just sleeping!”
Panic erupted. Some screamed, some prayed aloud, others rushed for help. The mother collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
The truth was undeniable now: he had been buried alive.