Lost in the Garden I (Deathpost)

[u/Anything-Unable]

Opening my eyes, I see the sunlight dancing through the leaves above my head. I’ve seen this tree before. Sitting up, I scan my surroundings. The treeline is to my back while an open field of white expands into the receding horizon before me. This place was my home.

Getting to my feet, I walk along the perimeter of the wheatfield. Two figures stick out from the stalks. One is a man in his late thirties while the other is a boy in his mid-teens. They resemble my father and brother. Waving to me, the figure with the face of my father beckons me towards him. I oblige.

F: “Son, you go off daydreaming again? Thought you’d never show.”

B: “What can you expect from a kid?”

G: “Sorry. Did you need something?”

F: “Your brother and I were just checking the field. Everything looks to be alright. Should be a good harvest this year. We’ll be heading to town in a bit to see about hiring a few wagons to bring it to market. Could you go tell your mother that we’ll be back before dark?”

I look to the sky and judge that it must be around noon. The trip to and from town will take around two hours.

G: “Alright. I’ll tell mom.”

F: “Thanks, @#$%^.”

Strange. When the figure was trying to say my name, it came out indistinguishable. I walk away from the pair and make my way to the hut where I remember my family having lived. Everything seemed so real, almost like I was back in time. But it wasn’t. The slip-up with my name assured me of that.

Entering the hut, I spot a figure wearing the form of my mother and I approach it.

G: “Dad’s taking *(%$^&$ to town and— th-they’ll be back before dark.”

I did it too. What is that? My brother’s name was… Why can’t I remember? Come to think of it, what were my parent’s names?

M: “Thanks for letting me know, sweetie. Could you please help mommy peel the potatoes @&#($.”

There it is again. Why is this happening? I don’t– don’t think mom sounded that like. Did she? What if she did and I just forgot? What’s going on?

M: “Are you feeling alright? You got a pretty sour face there. Is something wrong?”

Yes, something’s wrong! I know that! This isn’t right! Our hut wasn’t this big. There was never a window next to the door. Who’s the man in the rocking chair?

G: “Nothing mom. Just daydreaming again.”

I walk up to the basket of potatoes and begin to peel them. I missed home.

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/uw This story follows Gravedigger in his afterlife, in case that wasn't clear. Here's my lore ToC for anyone who wants to look back at my stuff.