The autumn wind swept across the cemetery near Dallas, carrying a cold bite that made the gathered mourners shiver in their black coats. A heavy white casket dangled over the open grave, suspended by thick green straps attached to a mechanical winch. The metal frame groaned as the operator slowly flipped the lowering lever, preparing to seal the grave forever.

David stood near the edge, his arm wrapped tightly around his new wife, Evelyn. Her eyes were swollen and red, a delicate lace handkerchief pressed to her lips. She looked completely devastated by the sudden loss of David’s wealthy father, Arthur Vance. Beside them, the estate attorney held a leather folder containing the final will and trust documents, ready to execute the multi-million dollar estate transfers the moment the funeral concluded.

Evelyn: It is time to let him rest, David. You have to let go.

David: I still can't believe he went so fast. He was healthy last week.

Evelyn: The doctors said his heart just gave out. Please, sweetie, look away if it hurts too much.

Before the casket could lower another foot, a sharp scream shattered the silent graveyard. A young boy in a stained, dirt-smudged brown shirt sprinted past the polished marble headstones, his sneakers kicking up dry grass. It was Leo, David’s seven-year-old nephew, who had mysteriously vanished from the family home early that morning.

Leo: NO! DON'T BURY HIM! STOP THE ROPES!

David: Leo? Where have you been? Get back from the edge!

Leo: HE'S ALIVE! HE IS ALIVE!

The boy lunged forward and grabbed the cold metallic side of the descending coffin, his small hands clinging frantically to the brass handles as the winch operator slammed on the emergency brake.

Evelyn: Someone grab that child! He’s hysterical and ruining the entire service!

Leo: SHE GAVE HIM SOMETHING! I SAW HER IN THE KITCHEN!