The impoverished mother who had visited her son’s grave was horrified when the youngster told her, “These boys live with us.”
Each morning started in the same manner. The unfortunate woman got up before the sun came up, cradled a bunch of fresh flowers against her bosom, and started down the damp, chilly path to the little fenced-in space where her sons slept. So little and so defenseless, they had departed from this world way too soon.
She and her ex-husband had decided to raise the boys together after the divorce. Because the kindergarten and school were close by, the kids lived with their mother during the week, and the father took them out on the weekends so they could spend time together. Nobody could have predicted that one typical day would ruin everything; it had always been this way.
The father was taking the boys home in his car that day. It was a familiar road with little traffic, and everything was peaceful. However, the accident occurred at that precise moment. No one survived, according to the rescuers, and the car was crushed like a tin can.
The woman’s world fell apart. Nights seemed to go on forever, and days dissolved into fog. She ceased to be alive, existing just at the cemetery and conversing with the two stone pictures that her quivering fingers stroked.
However, something unexpected happened on that gloomy, foggy day.
She was crying and barely feeling the cold as she stood by the grave when all of a sudden a stranger boy in a blue jacket and striped cap appeared next to her. He gave her a shy glance and inquired:
“Why are you crying, ma’am?”
She raised her swollen, crimson eyes and muttered:
“I lost my sons. My dear.
After seeing the gravestone’s pictures, the boy mutely inquired:
“Are these boys your kids?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding, not understanding his point.
After a brief period of silence, he uttered something that made her gasp:
However, they are still alive. They reside with me.
The boy appeared to be saying something quite commonplace as he stood composedly in front of her. The mother froze in fear as he added something else
He said again, “Come, I’ll show you.”
The woman felt her entire being fall apart. However, a peculiar coldness that comes when one has already experienced the worst and is unable to descend any further replaced the fear.
“All right. “Take the lead,” she was able to say.
The child approached the exit with assurance as he made his way through the cemetery. She was barely able to keep up.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
She faltered.
“Whose house?”
“OURS,” the boy simply answered. “Your kids reside there. I’ll demonstrate.
The trail led them past the cemetery gate and over a small, ancient bridge. The boy entered a peaceful neighborhood and headed directly for a house.
He declared, “It’s here.”
The woman started crying and said, “Sweetheart.” “You don’t comprehend… The accident claimed the lives of my sons. They were located. The funeral was held. papers, everything, etc.
The child gave her a look that said he had heard the same tale a hundred times.
“They survived.”
The door was knocked on.
They don’t often come out. since the basement is where they are housed.
Her heart began to race.
“W-what were you saying?”
The door suddenly slammed open, and a terrified little girl of the same age emerged. She regarded them and muttered:
“That’s their mom. I assured them that you would arrive.
She said, looking anxiously over her shoulder as though she was worried someone could hear her:
They’re in the lower level. At night, they weep. They requested that I advise you to save them.
The woman almost passed out.
“Who is taking my kids away?!”
The girl said as her eyes grew wide:
“The individuals who removed them from the vehicle on the day of the collision.” You were deceived by them. They were never interred. They were taken hostage.
