When I awoke, I immediately cringed at the wet, moldy aroma that filled my lungs and the air surrounding me. When I tried to sit up I banged my head off of a few dark and smelly oak planks. I stopped, I looked around and realized that I was in an box. But, not just any old box no, it was an old beaten up casket with broken planks in the bottom, and I could see daylight between the top few planks. I heard a woman's voice that sounded strangely familiar and it sent an eerie chill down my spine.
" Sir, do you know the cause of death?" asked the familiar voice. Suddenly a deep bone-chilling man's voice snapped a violent "NO" at the poor woman.
I heard footsteps and a baby's cries and squeals get strangely quieter as they went away in the other direction.
" Ms. Peters, please come back!" the man said as he suddenly took off and ran after her. I tried pushing up on the old and frighteningly wet wooden planks, but only to be proven wrong. I guess looks really are deceiving. I lay there in the broken casket for a while trying to recall my cause of death, in which I couldn't. This led me to try and remember my past life, but I could literally only remember a few things, my name, my age, and a few things about my home and family.
I am Oliver Holt, this is my life story. Apparently I'm dead and the reason why is still unknown, but not for long. Vivian Peters is my fiance, or at least 'was' my fiance. She was absolutely lovely, she had long brown waves and the most beautiful smile in the entire universe. Art. That was her passion she loved the feel of the pencil in her hand and the smell of the old yellowed paper she always like to draw and paint on. I have a very faint memory of walking through my home with her work in frames covering the walls and the one wall in the master bedroom that is covered in her art trophies and medallions. The memory of the day I had asked her to be my wife, of course as happy as could be she said "yes" through her tears.
My memories were rudely interrupted by the sound of very heavy footsteps coming back towards where I lay in the box.
" I'm so sorry Oliver..." said the woman's voice. I looked up through the spaces in the wood and gasped as I recognized Vivian's beatiful face. I looked into her arms and noticed she was holding a fragile little baby boy. We locked eyes and she had looked like she had seen a ghost.
"What's the matter Vivian?" I asked as I raised my head to get a better look at the baby.
"Oliver...is that you?" she asked, "Are you alive?" she said as she was slowly backing away from the hole that I laid in.
At that exact moment in time I realized that the baby she was holding was my son, and that he was born after I had left to go on a business trip with my co-workers. I am pretty sure he is mine because I remember Vivian telling me that she was pregnant and how she hated the thought of having to give birth to him while I was away on business. I had promised her that I would be back in time of her having our son.
"Oliver, this is our son, Carter." she said as she held the little bundle of joy in her arms out towards the hole. "I didn't know if you wanted his last name to be 'Holt' or 'Peters' so he isn't gonna have a last name... not yet at least."
I took one last look at Vivian and at my beautiful son, Carter and then eased my body, laid back down and then waved goodbye at my family and closed my eyes one last time.
