The little baby keeps pointing at his father’s coffin, what happens next is stunning

My God. The child can see, she whispered in a voice full of dread. A chill ran down Clara’s spine.

She turned to Lucy, trying to keep her voice steady. Lucy, what did you say, she asked, though her heart was already pounding with fear. Papa is there.

He’s calling for help. Mama, he’s trapped. Lucy insisted, still pointing toward the dark corner.

A cold breeze swept through the church, making the altar candles flicker. No one spoke, but Clara could feel the tension thickening in the air. Just then, the church doors creaked open with a slow, eerie sound.

A tall man stepped inside, his face stern. It was Henry, Samuel’s cousin. Dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes scanned the crowd before settling on Clara.

He approached her with a sympathetic smile that felt strangely insincere. Clara, you must be exhausted, Henry said, his voice deep and deceptively gentle. We’re all heartbroken over Samuel’s passing.

Clara only gave a slight nod, too drained to respond. Henry’s gaze flickered to Lucy, who was still clutching her mother’s dress, staring intently at the dark corner. The little one is too young to understand.

It’s best not to let her say such things it might frighten people, he said, his tone carrying a subtle sharpness. Clara frowned slightly. His words unsettled her.

She’s just grieving for her father, she replied, trying to remain composed. Henry nodded, but his expression quickly shifted. Clara, I hate to bring this up now, but you know Samuel left behind a lot of financial trouble.

Your house, it might be best to consider selling it to settle his debts. Clara froze, a wave of dizziness washing over her. Sell the house? What are you talking about? You know, Henry sighed with feigned concern, Samuel was a good man, but he had his share of troubles.

I’m just thinking about what’s best for you and Lucy. A cold dread seeped into Clara’s bones. She had never trusted Henry, and now, before Samuel had even been laid to rest, he was already talking about money.

Lucy suddenly clung tighter to her mother’s hand, her eyes glistening with tears. She pointed at the coffin again and spoke in a small yet clear voice. Papa is trapped.

Henry’s head snapped around, his face momentarily frozen. The tension in the church thickened. Those standing nearby began inching away, no one daring to speak.

Clara crouched down, her heart pounding in her chest. Lucy, what did you just say? Lucy looked up at her mother, her tiny face filled with fear. Papa hasn’t left.

He’s still here. He’s calling for Mama. A suffocating silence settled over the church.

A woman standing nearby, Margaret, tugged at another’s sleeve and whispered. This is not a good sign. A child so innocent wouldn’t lie.

Clara tightened her grip on Lucy’s little hand, trying to stop herself from trembling. Meanwhile, Henry clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering with unease. Children have vivid imaginations, he forced a chuckle, but Clara noticed his hands balling into fists.

She didn’t know what was happening. But one thing was certain something wasn’t right. Darkness crept through the St. Michael’s Church church as the altar candles flickered weakly.

The air felt heavier than ever after Lucy’s words. Those gathered around the coffin began stepping back, avoiding Clara and her daughter as if fearing what might come next. Papa hasn’t left.

He’s still here. He’s calling for Mama. Lucy’s words echoed in Clara’s mind, sending shivers down her spine…