Good MourningA Story by A.K. RohnerA man at peace.
The leaves danced in the air as the wind blew them away, an attempt at cheering up the smoking man in the center of the graveyard. This harsh wind’s cold, cruel temperature could not pierce through the black trench coat he wore, his black shirt and pants matching the look, making him appear as the Reaper himself, looking out at his grim handiwork. The smoke filled his lungs as he sucked at the end of the cigarette, the flame travelling down the white, slender body of the cancerous tool of death.
How fitting for a graveyard. The man looked down at the cigarette, thought about his health for a second, looked around the graveyard as if wondering what the many lost souls thought, then smoked again. The gravestone before him, wielding the name of his beautiful wife like a weapon, protruded stiffly from the ground. How symbolic. How profound. How poetic. And yet, the man thought about the not so poetic corpse rotting beneath the ground. The corpse that laughed when he made a terrible joke, that caressed his lips with hers, that helped him through the tough times. If only she could help with this problem. He could take a page from one of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories and climb into her grave with her. Or he could stand here forever and smoke himself away, letting his own ashes dance through the air as the leaves were. I’m so sorry. You’ll find love again. It gets better. All of those sad attempts at comfort were pathetically swimming around in his death filled mind. One more puff of smoke. One more breath of fresh air. Then he joined his wife. Wherever she rested her head at night. Whatever place she read about in that old looking book of hers that spoke of prophets and crucifixion. His mourning was over. © 2017 A.K. RohnerAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on May 3, 2017 Last Updated on May 3, 2017 Tags: Death, Mourning, Smoking, Graveyard. Author
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