Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother sees a young girl in a torn dress, quiet and strangely familiar. As she drives closer, she notices the girl’s sad eyes, filled with secrets that might be best left unknown.
It was late, and the night seemed darker than ever. The fog hugged the car like a thick blanket, hiding everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, holding the steering wheel tighter than usual.
“Just get home,” I whispered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been a long day at work, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.
I always avoided this road. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I thought: A quick shortcut will save time.
Then, I noticed something in the distance. A shadow in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding. The outline was faint, but it was there in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox,” I whispered, though I knew it wasn’t. As I drove closer, I realized it was a girl. She looked thin, and her white dress was in tatters.
A chill ran down my spine. Every instinct told me to turn back, but something held me there.
I cracked open the window, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
I stepped out of the car with a flashlight. The beam lit up her face, and I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes—it was my daughter.
“Emily?” I whispered, barely believing it. She looked at me, eyes empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was faint, like a distant echo.
Shock and relief overwhelmed me. It was Emily, my daughter who’d been missing for five years. She had vanished without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to her.
“Emily, oh my God… it’s you,” I stammered, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”
She blinked slowly, her expression blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t spoken in years.
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. We’re going home now, alright?” I wrapped my coat around her thin shoulders and led her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out into the fog.
The drive home was quiet. I glanced over at her, but her face was blank, as if she were somewhere far away.
“Emily,” I asked gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was dark. There was a man, but I can’t remember his face.”
My throat tightened. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’re going home.”
When we got home, she sat on the couch, looking around as if everything was unfamiliar. I asked if she remembered the place, but she only shrugged. Her voice was flat and empty.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her, feeling her icy skin. The days that followed were tense. Emily was distant, barely speaking. The only time I heard her voice clearly was when she sang an old lullaby I used to sing to her. It felt strange because she shouldn’t have remembered it.
One day, I found her looking at old photo albums. Her fingers traced a picture of her father, Mark. He had died when she was a baby.
“Mom?” she said, confused. “I know him.”
I felt a chill. “That’s your dad, honey. I’ve told you about him.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, I know him from… the place.”
A cold wave of fear washed over me. Emily couldn’t remember Mark, but she knew someone who looked like him. It had to be his brother, Jake. They looked so alike, almost like twins.
I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. I needed answers.
The next morning, I drove to our old family cabin deep in the woods. It had been abandoned for years, but something felt off when I arrived. One of the windows was covered with a cloth. Why would someone do that?
I pushed the door open, dust swirling in the air. Everything was untouched except for a small room in the back. Inside, toys lay scattered, worn but well-loved. My heart sank. This was where Emily had been kept.
I called the police immediately. Hours later, Emily sat quietly with me as the officers searched the cabin. She clutched her blanket, looking small and sad.
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered. “It was Uncle Jake. He looked like Daddy, but different. He would bring food and hum that song.”
The police confirmed it that night. They found enough evidence to arrest Jake. He confessed, saying he had taken Emily to “protect” her, wanting her to rely on him. It was twisted and horrifying to realize he had been so close all this time.
When Emily heard the truth, she broke down, crying out the pain she had held inside for so long. I hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “No one will take you away again.”
In the days that followed, Emily started to open up more. She would hum the lullaby at night, as if testing if it was safe to sing it again.
One evening, we sat together by the window. She leaned against me, and I softly hummed the lullaby like I used to. She looked up at me with a hint of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
Tears filled my eyes as I held her close. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
Scientists Say the ‘Soul’ Does Not Die, it ‘Returns to the Universe’
Since the beginning of time, humans have asked the question: “What happens to us after we die?”.
Religious or spiritual people often believe in a heaven or afterlife. Some believe that nothing happens to us; we just die. Others, however, believe that our souls live on after we die. A couple of researchers say that they have the science to that this might be a possibility. (1)
The Soul Doesn’t Die When Our Bodies Do
After extensive research, two experts are saying that while our bodies die, our consciousness – or our soul – lives on forever. Quantum mechanics, they say, makes this possible. Quantum mechanics is the science dealing with the behavior of matter at the atomic and subatomic levels. It accounts for the properties of molecules and atoms, and the things that make them. (2) This includes (2):
Neurons
Electrons
Protons
Quarks
Gluons
Other esoteric particles
Scientists Stuart Hameroff and Sir Roger Penrose say consciousness is simply information stored at this quantum level. (1)
Orchestrated Objective Reduction
The pair say that this storage process is Orchestrated Objective Reduction (Orch-OR). This is via a structural component of human cells, protein-based microtubules, that carry quantum information. (1, 3)
“Let’s say the heart stops beating, the blood stops flowing; the micro-tubules lose their quantum state,” explains Dr. Hameroff. “The quantum information within the micro-tubules is not destroyed, it can’t be destroyed, and it just distributes and dissipates to the universe at large.” (1)
He says that if the person is resuscitated, then the information just goes back into the microtubules, and the person becomes conscious again. This is what we call a “near-death experience.” If, instead, the patient dies, then their consciousness can possibly exist outside of the body as a soul. (1)
Our Physical Universe Is Just Our Perception
Researchers from the Max Planck Institute for Physics in Munich say that there is an infinite beyond after death. According to them, the world we live in is just our perception and that our souls go into this infinite beyond when our bodies die. (1)
“What we consider the here and now, this world, it is actually just the material level that is comprehensible,” says Dr Hans-Peter Durr from the institute. “The beyond is an infinite reality that is much bigger.” (1)
Hameroff and Penrose’s research shows that consciousness comes from deeper level microtubule vibrations. This not only helps us to better understand what the human consciousness is, but may also help treat mental, neurological, and cognitive conditions. (3)
What do you think? Do you think our souls live on after we die?
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