The Funeral

The room was quiet, small chatter and whispers coming from few sides, the sound of feet squeaking on the hardwood floor. And then everyone goes to sit down, they look towards the front of the room; the music starts playing.

            I’d like to thank everyone for attending this funeral tonight. James was – an incredible person. A great friend, an amazing husband, and a joy to be around. Whilst death brings with it many tragedies, the life of James Fres…

Dozens of bored eyes watched Father Conny speak. It was generally hard to keep people’s attention, let alone at a funeral.

After the speech, everyone stood up, and one by one made their way to the casket. Some touched it, some looked in, others just walked by. Those who looked in were pleasantly surprised by how good the dead corpse actually looked. He’d had a suit, and flowers, and his hair was all combed and made. Perhaps if he was alive and standing, you’d have the impression he was attending a business meeting and not his own funeral.

The rest of the day went by at a deathly pace. Father Conny ended up drinking a bit too much and had a fight with the deceased man’s wife. I wasn’t there to see it, but the town couldn’t stop talking about it for the next few days, it was like an infection.

The casket was later buried; that I did not attend. You could always find lilacs by his tombstone, even in wintertime, which I found odd because lilacs only bloom for a few short weeks in April.

One day, one of the Johnson’s had run back into the town square all sweaty, panting and gasping for air.

His grave, poor old chap, the Fraser boy, it’s empty! There’s nothing left there but dug up earth.

            Eventually night fell, and the search had proved futile. Everyone agreed to come out the next day to keep looking for the body, even me. The general mood was quite uncertain, and some even went to the graveyard that night to make sure their loved ones didn’t go missing. Although I hadn’t massively helped with the search, I felt greatly entertained by the disorganised rummaging that was taking place around town. With night approaching, I was quickly back home. The house was empty; mum and dad were probably still out. After taking a quick rest, I went out into the garden and started digging. The hole was finally complete. I dragged the body into the trench and covered it back up with dirt. Only a few days later and one was no longer able to tell the dirt had been moved at all. The Fraser boy was now mine.