The doors burst open.

A little girl ran down the aisle, screaming through tears—

And at the same second—

 BANG.

From inside the coffin.

The sound echoed like something alive.

Gasps exploded.

A bouquet fell.

Phones rose.

Silence crushed everything.

The camera snapped to the girl—

messy hair, shaking hands, clutching something white.

She ran straight to the coffin.

The widow turned sharply—

perfect composure shattered.

“Who let this child in here?!”

The girl didn’t stop.

Didn’t hesitate.

“She’s not dead… my mama told me—”

The widow grabbed her wrist.

Hard.

“Be quiet.”

The priest stepped closer.

Something already wrong in his eyes.

The girl opened her small fist.

A white ribbon.

Worn.

Writing across it.

“She tied this on my wrist…”

The camera crashed into the priest’s face.

He saw it.

Really saw it.

All color drained.

“…this is hers…”

The room shifted.

Fear creeping in.

The widow froze.

Then—

 a sound.

From the coffin.

Soft.

A scrape.

A breath.

Silence turned heavy.

Unbearable.

The girl slammed her hands against the lid.

“Mama! I’m here!”

The mourners stared.

No one laughed.

No one moved.

The priest’s hand slowly reached forward.

Shaking.

The widow snapped—

louder now.

Panicked.

“No—don’t touch it!”

Everything changed.

Heads turned.

Eyes locked onto her.

The camera pushed hard—

her face cracking—

fear spilling through every line.

Then—

to the priest’s trembling hand on the coffin.

Then—

to the little girl, crying, looking up—

“She said… if you try to bury her… it means Aunt Elena lied.”

The widow’s face collapsed.

Completely.

The priest tightened his grip—

And just before the coffin opened—

 CUT TO BLACK.

 Part 2 in the comments.