My Stepmother Said Dad Had a Contagious Disease but the Casket Was Alive

The scent of white lilies was suffocatingly thick in the dim, somber living room of the family estate. Arranged for an abrupt, hushed home wake, the room felt more like a tomb than a sanctuary. Standing rigid beside the heavy, closed wooden casket was Maria, her blonde hair pinned back into a severe low bun, her long-sleeved black lace dress absorbing what little light remained.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors burst open. Leo, her stepson, stumbled into the room, his dark navy suit disheveled, his face stained with tears.

"Dad! Dad! Please tell me it isn't true!"

he cried out, his voice cracking with agony.

Beneath the lid, in the pitch-black claustrophobia of the casket, Arthur lay wide awake. A thick strip of silver duct tape was plastered over his mouth, his hands tightly bound with zip ties. Hearing his son's desperate voice, Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. He thrashed his head, trying to scream, but only a muffled hum escaped.

Outside, Leo collapsed over the polished wooden lid, sobbing violently.

"When did all this happen, Maria? Why didn't you call me sooner? I want to see my father one last time."

Maria’s hands shot out, her fingers gripping Leo’s shoulders with frantic, unnatural strength. Her eyes darted around the room as she leaned in close, whispering frantically.

"No, you can't! It can't be opened, Leo. Your father had a disease. A very contagious disease. The coroner warned us that opening it poses a severe biohazard risk."

Leo stared at her, his grief momentarily giving way to confusion. His father had been perfectly healthy just two days ago. Inside the dark casket, Arthur closed his eyes in terror, hearing the monstrous lies of the woman he had married, praying his son would see through the deception.