On the day of my husband’s funeral, his hor

On the morning of my husband Tom’s funeral, his horse Astoria shattered the coffin lid.

The mist hung heavy, the crowd froze, and my heart pounded.

Calm and loyal all her life, Astoria now charged like a storm, unstoppable as she struck the coffin with her hooves.

The wood split open with a crack. Gasps echoed as dust settled,

revealing not Tom’s body, but a pile of rocks shaped like a man.

My knees weakened. Where was my husband?

Whispers spread, suspicion rising around me.

Astoria, suddenly calm, met my eyes with uncanny intensity.

I realized she had known the truth all along—Tom was never inside that coffin.

reThis was no accident, but a revelation.

Grief hardened into resolve. With Astoria by my side, I turned from the splintered coffin, ready to uncover what had happened to Tom and seek the justice his spirit deserved.