️ TITLE: “THE UNHOLY REUNION”
The chapel lights flickered beneath the storm’s breath, candles bending as though terrified of what they illuminated. Rows of mourners sat motionless, their black garments absorbing the grief-heavy air. At the altar, Elara stood pale and rigid, her trembling hands clutching the rosary her mother once wore—a relic of faith now turned to fear.
The mahogany casket gleamed under the dim light, too pristine, too perfect, too large. Elara’s eyes darted across its smooth surface, her heartbeat syncing with the slow creak of the ropes lowering it into the earth. Deep inside, something primal screamed: this was no ordinary burial. Something—or someone—else was going down with her mother.
Arthur’s breath grew shallow. He had stayed silent through the ceremony, the image of his late wife—calm, still, unreachable—burned into his memory. But as the casket tilted forward, a glint caught his eye. He stepped closer, ignoring the whispers of the priest. There, at the foot of the coffin, a faint mark shimmered under the candlelight: a desperate, human scratch.
He leaned in. The gouge was fresh—sharp-edged, trembling with the story of its making. Clinging to it was a single lock of hair, pale as frost, unmistakable. Arthur froze. His wife’s hair had darkened with age; this belonged to someone younger. Someone gone.
“Elara…” he rasped, his voice breaking into the silence. “Stop… stop the burial!”
The ropes halted. Shovels froze midair. Elara turned, her confusion giving way to horror as her father staggered toward the coffin, his hands shaking uncontrollably. “Dad, what are you—”
Arthur’s voice cracked like thunder. “This isn’t over. She’s in there. Isolde’s in there.”
Gasps filled the chapel. The priest recoiled, his lips forming a half-finished prayer. Elara stumbled back, her mind unraveling. Isolde—her twin sister—lost ten years ago in the flood. A tragedy her mother never recovered from.
Now the truth clawed its way to the surface: her mother hadn’t accepted loss. She had hidden it. Preserved it. And she had chosen to take that secret with her into the grave.
Arthur ripped the lid open with shaking hands. The scent of lilies mixed with something far more ancient—decay and soil. Inside, the body of his wife lay in her funeral gown… but beside her, wrapped in lace and bone dust, was a smaller form. A child’s skeleton, its hands entangled with hers, locked in eternal embrace.
Elara’s scream split the night like lightning. Her mother’s final act wasn’t love—it was obsession. A ritual of reunion, meant to bind them forever, no matter the cost.
And as thunder cracked over the chapel roof, Arthur fell to his knees, whispering in disbelief, “She didn’t want to rest in peace… she wanted to rest together.”
The grave remained open.
The lilies rotted.
And somewhere, deep beneath the rain, a faint sound echoed from the coffin—
a second heartbeat, too weak to be real… yet too alive to ignore.
