He blocked out the thoughts, raised himself onto the
wooden floor and leaned against the doorway of his
room. His hand felt the grooves of the grey flowery
wallpaper as he clenched his tongue between his
teeth. The wallpaper she had put up with care. With
her tiny rosy fingers that reminded him of this little
boy that came into the mortuary once. The saddest
boy he had ever seen. The boy had died from falling
out a tree and spilling his brains across a sharp rock
and a bed of autumn leaves. Mr. Grieves couldn't
help but hold the boys hand in his, in some kind of
reassurance that even though the boy was dead,
things would be okay. Like the ghost of the boy
could still see him, and that his words had any effect
among the dead.
Mr. Grieves dug his fingers into the wallpaper and
etched in the smallest words, "ALONE". A word that
had come up often among his thoughts and even had
their own place among the flesh of his arm. He pulled
the sleeves of his shirt down with his fingertips and
managed his way out of his room and down the
damp stairs. The streets were empty as usual but
littered with the happenings of the day he had never
experienced.
Seedy Funeral Home was a large block of white stone
lying in dark, muddy grass and pathways of clean-cut
stone that led to acres of gravestones and
mausoleums. At an attempt of making the Funeral
Home warm and friendly, strings of Christmas lights
and flowers found their way among the heap and
tucked themselves in. It only managed to make the
place lonelier and darkened the faces of anyone who
saw it for what it was; a showcase of the dead.
wooden floor and leaned against the doorway of his
room. His hand felt the grooves of the grey flowery
wallpaper as he clenched his tongue between his
teeth. The wallpaper she had put up with care. With
her tiny rosy fingers that reminded him of this little
boy that came into the mortuary once. The saddest
boy he had ever seen. The boy had died from falling
out a tree and spilling his brains across a sharp rock
and a bed of autumn leaves. Mr. Grieves couldn't
help but hold the boys hand in his, in some kind of
reassurance that even though the boy was dead,
things would be okay. Like the ghost of the boy
could still see him, and that his words had any effect
among the dead.
Mr. Grieves dug his fingers into the wallpaper and
etched in the smallest words, "ALONE". A word that
had come up often among his thoughts and even had
their own place among the flesh of his arm. He pulled
the sleeves of his shirt down with his fingertips and
managed his way out of his room and down the
damp stairs. The streets were empty as usual but
littered with the happenings of the day he had never
experienced.
Seedy Funeral Home was a large block of white stone
lying in dark, muddy grass and pathways of clean-cut
stone that led to acres of gravestones and
mausoleums. At an attempt of making the Funeral
Home warm and friendly, strings of Christmas lights
and flowers found their way among the heap and
tucked themselves in. It only managed to make the
place lonelier and darkened the faces of anyone who
saw it for what it was; a showcase of the dead.
"Let me see your insides," he had told Christine on a late
night in her warm arms. Her face darkened with fright as
she looked at him. Really looked at him.
"Why on Earth would you want to see that?" she asked
through a hushed voice, which you always had to stand
close to hear. So close, you could smell her smell of sweet
rain. So close you could see the rainbow of colors that
were the pixels of her eyes and flesh. Something no
painting or picture could ever capture, as hard as he tried.
"Because I want to make sure beauty like this sinks in
farther than the flesh," he smiled and nuzzled closer to her.
Her gray eyes moved across him and to the cold floor. She
pushed his head off of her and made him look into her
eyes. Really look.
"Grieves, you don't get it-" The memory always stopped in
his head before the words caught up with his brain. As
hard as he could, he tried to block out all the things she
said.
All the things that hurt so much.
To be Continued...
