The grave had been closed.

But she pleaded with the ministers to open it — just to let her see her sister’s face.

The ministers, moved by her distress, agreed.

Men with shovels went to work.

When the screws were removed from the coffin lid and the lid was lifted away, Essie Dunbar sat up.

She sat up in her coffin and smiled at her sister.

The three ministers fell backward into the grave.

The shortest of them suffered three broken ribs as the other two scrambled over him in their panic to get out.

The mourners fled in all directions, including the sister who had insisted on the opening.

When the crowd saw that Essie, who had climbed out of the coffin and out of the grave, was actually pursuing them, trying to reach them, trying to tell them she was alive, the terror deepened — because in their minds, she wasn’t alive.

She was dead.

She had been buried.

What was following them was something from the other side.

For years afterward, in Blackville and the surrounding area, people would cross the street to avoid walking near Essie Dunbar.