Chapter 2: The Empty Vessel
Ignoring the chaos behind her, Clara pulled with all her strength. The wood and satin splintered, tearing away to reveal the interior of the casket. The murmurs in the church swelled into a collective, panicked uproar, but for Clara, the world suddenly went completely silent.
She leaned over, staring down into the darkness of the box. Her determined expression faltered. Her eyes widened, tracking something hidden in the silk lining. Rapidly, the adrenaline gave way to a paralyzing, breathless shock.
There was no body.
Instead, resting on a bed of heavy river stones—placed there to mimic the weight of a human corpse—was a small, metallic lockbox. It was open. Inside rested a collection of deeply unsettling photographs and a simple, handwritten ledger. The ledger detailed decades of embezzlement from the town's charitable funds, directly implicating half the people sitting in the front pews. But that wasn't what terrified her.
Wired to the underside of the box was a crude, blinking digital timer, counting down from three minutes. Arthur hadn't just faked his death; he was exacting revenge.
May you like
Clara slowly covered her mouth with trembling hands, tears of pure horror welling in her eyes. She looked up at the congregation, her face pale. The silence in the room was heavy, expectant.
"Oh my god," she whispered, her voice barely carrying, before she found her lungs. "Everyone needs to leave this room. Immediately!"
