Angry Dog Won’t Stop Barking At His Owner’s Coffin. Opening It, People Scream In Horror!

At the wake of its owner, a dog starts to bark fitfully and it won’t stop. Joselyn, the deceased’s daughter, knows the animal well. She understands the dog is trying to tell them something; he was her father’s best friend, after all. When they finally open the coffin, a horrifying truth is revealed. People scream in horror at the sight, and a series of events unfolds that will leave you breathless.

The silence in the funeral home was shattered by the relentless barking of an old dog named Max. He stood, bristling and growling, at the foot of Mr. Johnson’s coffin. The people at the wake shifted uneasily. Max’s eyes were locked on the wooden box, and his growls grew more intense with each passing second. Eventually, Mr. Adams, the funeral director, approached Max. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out.

“Easy boy,” he said, but the dog’s barking only grew louder and more frantic. Mr. Adams stepped back, shook his head, and glanced around the room. He was at a loss. Joselyn, Mr. Johnson’s daughter, tightened the leash and said,

“Max, please stop, boy. Just stop.”

Clive, Mr. Johnson’s best friend, was a tall, burly man with a rugged face. He placed a comforting hand on Joselyn’s shoulder.

“He’s been like this since your dad passed,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

Mr. Adams sighed and stepped forward again.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I apologize for the disruption. If anyone can help calm the dog, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Clive moved towards Max and crouched down to the dog’s level.

“Hey, Max,” he said gently and extended a hand. “It’s okay, boy. We’re all here for him.”

But Max continued to bark, and his gaze remained fixed on the coffin, as if he was trying to communicate something urgent. Joselyn’s heart ached as she watched Max. She remembered how her father and Max had been inseparable. Her father had rescued Max as a pup from the shelter. They had been each other’s constant companions ever since. The bond between them was unbreakable, and now, in death, Max seemed to be mourning his owner in the only way he knew how.

The mourners fidgeted, their conversations became hushed and uneasy. A few people stood up and moved towards the exit. Clive stood up and looked at Joselyn.

“We need to figure out what’s bothering him,” he said. “There’s a reason he’s acting this way. Maybe something’s wrong.”

Joselyn nodded and wiped away a tear.

“You’re right,” she said. “But what could it be?”

Just then, an elderly woman in the back row spoke up.

“Animals have a sixth sense,” she said. “They know when something’s not right. Maybe he’s trying to tell us something.”

Joselyn glanced at the coffin, then back at Max. What if the dog was trying to warn them about something? Her mind raced with possibilities. She took a deep breath and approached the coffin. Max’s barking softened to a low growl, but his eyes followed her every move. She reached out and touched the polished wood.

“Dad,” she whispered, “if there’s something we need to know, please show us.”

Joselyn recalled the day her father brought Max home. She had been just a teenager, sulking in her room over some trivial argument. Then her father walked in with a tiny, scruffy puppy in his arms.

“Meet Max,” he said with a grin. “Found him at the shelter. He needs a home.”

At first, Joselyn had been skeptical. She didn’t really think they needed a dog, especially one that looked so unruly, but her father’s excitement was infectious. She soon found herself falling in love with the little furball. Max and her father had been inseparable from that day forward. They spent countless hours playing in the backyard, going on long walks, and curling up together on the couch.

One of Joselyn’s favorite memories was of a camping trip they had taken to the mountains. Her father had insisted on bringing Max despite her reservations about having a dog in the wilderness. But Max had been a natural adventurer. He had bounded through the forest with boundless energy, chasing after butterflies and sniffing every tree. At night, he had curled up by the campfire, his head rested on her father’s lap, looking completely content. She remembered her father’s laughter as Max chased his own tail, spinning in circles until he got dizzy and flopped down in a heap. Joselyn smiled through her tears as she remembered the way Max had always been there for her father.

Then came the car accident. The house was suddenly filled with a sense of enormous loss. Max had sensed it too. She remembered the phone call shortly before midnight: an 18-wheeler had drifted into the center of the road and hit Mr. Johnson’s car head-on. His car had instantly burst into flames. They said his body was burnt beyond recognition. It was so sudden, so unexpected, and so final. When she asked to see her father, everybody dissuaded her. It wasn’t the way she would want to remember him, they said. And probably, they were right.

Max was beside himself for days. He waited at the front gate for his master to return. He was restless, quit eating, and paced around like a lost puppy. The life had disappeared from his eyes, and his movements seemed sluggish. Max had gone into a state of mourning Joselyn never knew existed with dogs. Now, standing in the funeral home, she understood why Max was so distressed. He had lost his best friend, his constant companion, and he didn’t know how to cope with the grief. Her heart broke for him. She opened her eyes and looked at Max. He was still growling softly at the coffin.

“We’ll figure this out, boy,” she whispered. “For Dad. We owe him that much.”

Just as the tension in the room seemed unbearable, the heavy wooden doors of the funeral home creaked open. A tall, gaunt man stepped inside, his face partially hidden beneath the brim of a worn fedora. He moved with a peculiar stiffness. Max’s growling turned into a frenzy of barks. The man approached the coffin with measured steps. The mourners turned to watch him. Joselyn and Clive exchanged glances, both feeling an instinctual wariness.

“Excuse me,” the man said, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m an old friend of Mr. Johnson. My name is Richard.”

Joselyn searched her memories for any mention of a Richard. Her father had never spoken of such a person. She stepped forward.

“I’m Joselyn. I’m his daughter,” she said. “I don’t recall my father mentioning you.”

Richard smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He said they were close many years ago, but he had been out of the country when he heard of his passing. Richard glanced at the dog.

“Animals can be funny like that,” he said. “I assure you, I mean no harm. I just wanted to pay my respects.”

Max’s barking grew more frantic. Richard took another step closer to the coffin. Max lunged forward. Joselyn’s heart pounded in her chest. Something about Richard felt off, as if he didn’t belong here.

“Why don’t we step outside for a moment?” Clive suggested. “It’s getting a bit crowded in here.”

Richard hesitated but then nodded. As he turned to follow Clive and Joselyn out of the room, Max’s barking reached a fever pitch. Joselyn felt a chill run down her spine.

Outside, away from the prying eyes of the other mourners, Joselyn faced Richard.

“Who are you really?” she demanded. “Why haven’t we heard of you before?”

Richard’s smile faltered. He repeated that he was nothing more than an old friend and said there was no mystery here. Clive was skeptical. He asked why Max’s reaction to Richard could have been so severe. Richard simply shrugged, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Joselyn wasn’t convinced. Something about Richard didn’t add up, and Max’s intense reaction only fueled her suspicions. She glanced at Clive, who nodded slightly. They needed to get to the bottom of this. Richard’s presence was more than just unsettling; it felt like a warning.

As they reentered the funeral home, Joselyn’s mind raced. Who was this man really, and what connection did he have to her father that had never been mentioned before? She knew one thing for certain: they couldn’t ignore Max’s instincts. Something was terribly wrong.

Joselyn and Clive couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that Richard’s presence had brought. After the wake, they decided to take action. If Richard was hiding something, they needed to find out what it was, and they had to do so before the funeral. Together, they made their way to Mr. Johnson’s old study. The room was filled with memories and the scent of worn leather and aged paper. It was just as her father had left it. Bookshelves were lined with dusty volumes, and a large wooden desk was cluttered with papers. Joselyn felt the pang of nostalgia as she looked around. Her father was always meticulous with records. If there was something in the study, they would find it.

They carefully sifted through papers. The two of them opened drawers and checked every nook and cranny. It was slow, meticulous work. As the hours passed, their frustration grew. Just when Joselyn was about to give up, she noticed a loose floorboard under the desk.

“Clive, look at this,” she said.

Clive knelt down and pried it open. Beneath it

was a small, weathered diary. Joselyn’s hands trembled as she picked it up. The leather cover was worn and cracked. The neat handwriting on the pages was unmistakably her father’s. The diary began with mundane entries about daily life, but as they read further, the tone changed. It spoke of a different time, of a life Joselyn had never known. There were mentions of dangerous dealings, shadowy figures, and secrets that had to be kept at all costs.

Clive leaned over her shoulder and read along with her. One entry in particular caught their attention. It detailed a partnership with a man named Richard. The description matched the mysterious stranger from the funeral. The entries hinted at conflicts and betrayals, but the details were vague. It was as if Mr. Johnson had been too cautious to write them down explicitly. The diary mentioned unfinished business that had haunted her father for years. There were cryptic references to debts unpaid and promises unkept. One passage stood out:

“Richard and I made choices that could never be undone. If he ever returns, it will mean the past has come back to claim us.”

Clive looked at Joselyn, his expression grim. It seemed her father was involved in something serious, and it looked like Richard was part of it. Clive flipped through the remaining pages, but the diary ended abruptly. It was clear that Mr. Johnson had stopped writing years ago. They continued their search, now with a renewed sense of urgency. In a filing cabinet, they found old letters and documents. Some corroborated the diary’s accounts. There were photos of her father with a younger Richard, both looking serious and intense. Joselyn couldn’t believe how much her father had kept from her.

One letter in particular caught their attention. It was from Richard, dated several years ago. The tone was desperate. The letter pleaded for Mr. Johnson’s help with a matter of life and death. The letter mentioned a debt that needed to be paid and hinted at consequences if it wasn’t. They had uncovered a hidden part of her father’s past and, with it, a mystery that needed solving. They were determined to find out the truth, no matter what it took.

As Joselyn and Clive delved deeper into the diary and the old letters, a clearer picture began to form. The entries painted a troubling portrait of Mr. Johnson’s past, one filled with danger and deception. Joselyn read aloud from one of the more revealing entries:

“Richard and I got involved in something bigger than us. We made choices that still haunt me. I fear the day he returns because it will mean our past sins have come back to claim us.”

Joselyn flipped through more pages. Another entry caught her attention:

“I regret ever getting involved with Richard. He was ruthless, willing to do anything to get what he wanted. If he ever shows up again, it won’t be for a friendly visit.”

The room grew colder as the implications of these words sank in. Joselyn’s hands shook slightly as she closed the diary. This meant Richard’s arrival at the funeral wasn’t a coincidence. He had a reason for coming. They spent the next few hours searching online. They managed to piece together fragments of information about Richard. What they found was disturbing. Richard had a history of involvement in illegal activities, including extortion and fraud. He had been linked to several high-profile cases but had always managed to slip through the cracks of the legal system. Joselyn’s heart sank as the pieces started to fall into place. Her father had been involved with a dangerous man, and now that man was back, casting a shadow over her father’s death. The thought of her father being a victim of foul play was almost too much to bear, but she knew she couldn’t back down now. There was only one option. They had to involve law enforcement.

As they made their way to the police station, Joselyn felt scared. Her father’s secrets had led them into a dangerous web, but she owed it to her father and to Max. Joselyn and Clive didn’t have to wait long to confront Richard. They returned to the funeral home a few hours later with Max in tow. They found Richard still loitering near the entrance. Max strained against the leash and started barking furiously the moment he saw Richard. Joselyn felt a surge of anger. She couldn’t let this man’s presence go unchallenged. She marched up to him.

“Richard,” she said. “We need to talk. Now.”

Richard turned to face them. His expression remained calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. He asked what was on her mind. Clive stepped forward. He told Richard they knew about his past and insisted Richard tell them why he was really at the wake. Richard’s facade of calmness cracked for a moment. Then he said this wasn’t the place for the kind of discussion they wanted to have. He suggested they step outside. Joselyn nodded, but she didn’t miss the fact that Max’s barking became even more frantic as they moved towards the door.

Outside, the evening air was cool. Joselyn crossed her arms and fixed Richard with a determined stare.

“We want the truth, Richard. Why did you come to my father’s funeral? What do you want?”

Richard sighed, his shoulders slumped slightly. He agreed to tell them but warned them that it was complicated.

“Start talking,” Joselyn demanded. Her patience was wearing thin.

Richard took a deep breath. He said Mr. Johnson had been a business associate many years ago. Things got messy. There were debts that needed to be paid, and people were after them. They eventually went their separate ways to stay safe.

Joselyn’s eyes narrowed.

“What kind of business dealings?”

“Illegal ones,” Richard hesitated, then nodded. The business dealings were technically illegal, and her dad had tried to get out. Richard said he respected that, but he had recently gotten in trouble again and needed her father’s help. He said there was more and apologized for not being able to tell her.

“So you came to collect on an old debt?” Joselyn asked.

Richard shook his head.

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” he told them. “But I did think your father might have had something that could have helped him. It was something from their shared past.” He quickly added that he didn’t come to harm her father. He had simply come to pay his respects.

As Richard turned to leave, he stopped and looked back at Joselyn and Clive. He said there was one more thing they should know. Joselyn’s father was involved in something much bigger than they thought. He was a clandestine member of a crime syndicate. He kept something very valuable hidden, something that could bring the whole syndicate down.

Joselyn’s eyes widened in shock.

“What are you talking about?”

Richard said it was evidence, and if it was in the coffin, they needed to find it before the syndicate did. Joselyn hated what she heard, but the puzzle pieces were finally falling into place, and the stakes were far higher than she’d ever imagined. With renewed determination, she and Clive moved towards the coffin. They were ready to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

Mr. Adams hesitated as Joselyn and Clive explained the situation. With great reluctance, he approached the coffin. As he reached for the lid, Joselyn held her breath. Slowly, Mr. Adams lifted the lid. The creaking hinges echoed in the hush. The atmosphere was electric; everyone was on edge, waiting for what lay inside. As the lid opened fully, a collective gasp filled the room. Then followed horrified screams. Inside the coffin, instead of her father, was a gruesome sight. The body had been tampered with; it was disfigured. Joselyn looked at his wrist. He always wore a copper bracelet similar to a Medic Alert armlet. He’d once shown her the screw top and how to open it. On that day, he had told her how to open it and said if there was ever trouble, whatever was inside was hers. She reached in and removed it from his arm, then screwed the thin top off. A carefully folded sliver of paper dropped out. When she looked at it, she knew immediately what it meant. That little piece of paper unmistakably pointed to the evidence Richard had spoken of.

Joselyn and Clive simply stared at the horrifying sight in the coffin, their minds reeling.

“We’ve got to go,” Joselyn said, grabbing Clive by the arm. “I know where the evidence is.”

They drove for two hours to a cabin Joselyn’s dad had bought when she was only nine. It was in the rugged wilderness, a space he loved and cherished. She followed the instructions on the note from the bracelet and found a stack of documents hidden under a trunk in the bedroom. It revealed a stunning twist. Mr. Johnson had been working undercover for the FBI. His involvement in the crime syndicate had been part of a cover operation to bring down the organization from within. He had accepted the assignment shortly after the success of the Donnie Brasco infiltration of the mob. The evidence he had collected was crucial. It contained names, dates, and transactions that could dismantle the entire network. Mr. Johnson’s role had been so secretive that not even Joselyn had known.

Clive’s eyes widened as he read over her shoulder.

“Your dad was a hero, Joselyn. He risked everything to protect you and to take down these criminals.”

Joselyn’s heart swelled with pride and sorrow.

“But why did he keep it all hidden?”

Joselyn’s eyes filled with tears as the truth sank in. Her father hadn’t died in a tragic motor vehicle accident. He had probably been murdered by the very people he was trying to bring down. The realization brought a mixture of grief and relief. They had the evidence to finish what her father had started. Max, sensing the shift in the room, finally calmed down.

The loyal dog’s mission to protect his owner was complete. Joselyn and Clive contacted the authorities on the way back. The evidence would be used to bring justice to those responsible. Slowly, Joselyn began to feel a sense of closure. Her father’s death had not been in vain. She knelt beside Max, placing a hand on his head.

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered.

In the days that followed, the community rallied around Joselyn. Friends, neighbors, and even strangers came together to offer their support and share their condolences. They organized a memorial service to honor Mr. Johnson’s bravery and dedication, and celebrate his life and the sacrifices he made. The small town’s church was filled to capacity as people gathered to pay their respects. Stories of Mr. Johnson’s kindness, his undercover work, and his unwavering courage were shared. It painted a picture of a man who had touched many lives.

Joselyn stood at the podium. She spoke of her father’s heroism and the love he had for Max.

“He was a man of integrity and strength,” she said, “and he loved his dog with all his heart. Max was his loyal companion, and together they faced many challenges. My father’s legacy lives on in the justice he sought and in the love he gave.”

Max was now calm and at peace. His presence by Joselyn’s side was a comforting reminder of the bond they shared. The community’s outpouring of support and love brought a sense of healing. Joselyn felt a renewed hope and knew her father’s spirit would live on through the lives he had touched.