When the widow came to her husband’s grave, she noticed a huge hole right next to the tombstone: she looked into the hole and was horrified by what she saw 

Every Sunday the widow came to visit him. It had been almost a year since her husband passed away, but she hadn’t missed a single week. Black dress, black headscarf, fresh flowers — everything was as usual. Only her heart grew heavier. Today, as always, she carried a bunch of gladiolus and quietly walked on the gravel between the rows of graves.

But as soon as she approached her husband’s grave, something seemed strange. At first, she thought it was a play of light. Then she squinted — and her heart sank. Right next to the slab, almost under the flowers, there was a dark, uneven hole in the ground. As if someone was digging from inside. Or… from outside?

The woman stopped abruptly, struggling to hold back a tremble. The flowers slipped from her hands and fell beside the hole. Her chest tightened, as if the air had lessened. She stepped closer and slowly knelt down. The ground around was loose, as if it had been disturbed recently. Her hand involuntarily touched the slab, as if seeking support from her husband even after death.

“This can’t be…” she whispered. “Has someone tried to open the grave?”

Troubling thoughts raced through her mind. Where did this hole come from? Why here? What if…? She looked into the hole — and felt fear slowly crawling up her spine. Suddenly, the widow saw something very terrible and unimaginable  Continued in the first comment

But then she noticed small marks on the edge of the hole. Sharp, like claws, but too small for a predator. Remembering an old book her husband often read to their grandchildren — about underground tunnels and moles — she leaned closer.

The tunnel did indeed go deep, but not straight down, rather a bit sideways. It was not a human passage. And certainly not a malicious intent.

“Moles…” she whispered with relief. “Little, silly moles…”

She sat down on the grass and, for the first time in months, allowed herself to smile. That hole, which had first caused a primal terror, was simply a consequence of nature.

And ironically, it reminded the widow: life doesn’t stop. Even in the cemetery, under flowers and stones, it goes on — crawling, digging, breathing.

She adjusted her scarf, carefully smoothed the soil at the edge of the tunnel, placed the flowers back, and quietly said:

“You would have laughed, wouldn’t you? I can imagine how you would have teased me.”