A boy sat by his mother’s grave, crying loudly: a passerby approached and discovered something horrifying

A grey morning. A light rain drizzles lazily, running down the marble headstones. A mist lies over the cemetery.

At the far end of the path, among fresh wreaths and the still-wet dark soil, stands a small boy. No older than seven. Thin, in a worn-out jacket, cheeks soaked with tears. He kneels at a grave, hugging the stone, pressing his cheek against the cold slab.

He doesn’t scream or call out – just quietly, silently weeps. His lips tremble, shoulders shiver. He strokes the earth as if whispering something to it — to the earth, to his mother.

From the other side of the cemetery, a man walks. Tall, well-dressed, in a formal suit — he has recently buried his wife. His gaze is vacant, his face tired. He walks toward her grave, but suddenly notices the boy.

A strange feeling stirs in his heart. The man slows down, then walks toward the child.

— I’m sorry… — he says as he stops beside him. — I’m truly sorry. Was that your mother?

The boy doesn’t respond. He only presses himself closer to the grave.

— I… I recently buried my wife. It’s hard. Losing someone you loved more than life itself… — The man leans down and gently places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. — You shouldn’t be here alone. Is someone helping you? Do you have a place to go?

The boy slowly turns his head. His eyes are red, full of pain and fear. He looks at the man for a long moment, then whispers:

— Sir… my mother is alive. They buried her alive. I heard her. But no one listens to me. Please… help me.

The man recoiled.

— What did you say?

Continued in the first comment

— She’s alive. She was screaming… but no one heard. I tried telling the grown-ups, but they just hugged me and said I was sick… But she’s alive… — The boy’s voice trembled, but there was a strange calmness in it.

The man stepped back, a cold and inexplicable fear rising in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. After a moment, he nodded:

— Listen, I… I’ll talk to someone. I promise. But for now… you shouldn’t be alone. Let me walk with you.

The boy stood up silently. He didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Later that evening, the man told a friend about the incident. They were both intrigued — there was something in the boy’s words that deeply touched them.

— His name is Matthew, — the friend said after some research. — His mother really did die. And very tragically. A heart attack. He was home with her… couldn’t understand what had happened for a long time. Trauma, stress. He’s now with a foster family. He suffers from reactive psychosis caused by shock. In such cases, people may believe things that seem impossible. Especially a child. Especially one who’s lost the person dearest to them.

The man sat in silence. He remembered the desperation in the boy’s voice: “I heard her… she was screaming.”