The Muffled Thump

I was filming a documentary in a deeply isolated, off-grid community. Drawn by the sound of weeping, my guide and I approached a large gathering in the town square. I raised my camera, zooming in on the long wooden box at the center of the crowd. Beneath the loud, sorrowful hymns of the mourners, my directional microphone picked up a faint, frantic sound. *Thump... thump... thump.* I lowered my camera, my blood running cold. I shoved past the weeping family and screamed to stop the ceremony immediately.