In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
http://writeworld.tumblr.com/post/98760120497/the-worst-thing-about-the-funeral-is-that-her-socks-are
The worst thing about the funeral is
that her socks are wet. It is such a cliché that it always rains at a funeral
but it is and she is, so both those things seem true. She isn’t mourning and
her wet socks make her sad but not enough to cry.
People are crying; some silently and
some dramatically clutching white lace-trimmed handkerchiefs that look so
pristine they must save them for funerals.
She had listened to the eulogies and
wondered that a person could live his whole life in self-contained compartments
as the deceased must have done. Then she had followed the hearse and the coffin
to the interment. She needed to see it.
She is fairly certain that none of
these people knew the dead man; not even his closest family. At least they
didn’t really know him. They came from one room in his life, she came
from another. She was the interloper; the outsider. She did not belong here and
if he was alive, he would have had her removed. Or shot.
She knew him; knew him too well and she
was here to make sure that he went into the ground. She wasn’t crying and no
amount of drama from other people would encourage her to shed a single tear.
Her whole family was dead, and it was
on the orders of this man.
It made her rage inside that he got to
die peacefully in his bed when she had hoped to kill him herself. But the
opportunity had never arisen; the exact right set of circumstances that would
have resulted in his death. She was driven by revenge but she was not stupid or
suicidal. As the last of her family, a lot was riding on her slim shoulders.
The ceremony finished and people
started to walk back to their cars.
She noted the exact position of the
grave. Maybe she should return tonight and salt and burn him just to make sure
he didn’t come back? The thought made her want to laugh. One of his men was
watching her as she moved through the people to get closer to the hole.
She crouched down next to the grave,
made the mano cornuta horn symbol with her fingers pointing down towards the
ground and she whispered, “I’ll see you in Hell.” And then she spat into it
before rising and walking away.
~~~~
© AM Gray 2014
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