Lost

An awkward funeral director takes drastic measures to help a little boy understand that his grandfather is dead and never coming back.

       

               Terence was stuck babysitting.  As he rocked in the rocking chair, blankly watching the curious child crawl about the room, he couldn’t help but think how deceptively morbid the term was. Why would parents want a complete stranger to ‘sit’ upon their offspring?  The woman Mint Hallows had simply transferred the child’s funny little hand into Terence’s and gone off to make arrangements for her father’s funeral. Terence was awkward when it came to conversing with emotionally compromised adults, but when it came to children, he was clueless. Terence’s sheer height had made it difficult to maintain the grip of the small human’s hand―Terence had had to lean sideways and slouch like a deformed giraffe.  Before transferring the temporary custody of her child over to Terence, the woman had hesitated. Her expression spoke words. She was frightened of Terence. She was frightened of his abnormal height and raw boned figure. She had looked at Terence as though he was an extraterrestrial, there to dissect her child and study the innards.  Jaune, too, had noticed her fear and had assured the woman that Terence wouldn’t hurt a fly. Jaune was, of course, fibbing. Terence had not only hurt, but killed flies on numerous occasions.

“Is this your house?” The child spoke. The kid’s verbalization surprised Terence.  These creatures could speak?!

“No,” Terence answered. The child was dressed in the costume of a fox. His face was round and  smooth like a peach. His eyes were round and sparkled with innocence. Brown speckles dotted his cheeks and a sandy tuft of hair protruded from the hood of his apparel. Pip was cute, which made Terence uncomfortable; Terence didn't know what to do with cute things.

“Why do you have so many beds?” The boy pointed at the caskets which could be seen through the door of the playroom. Terence had never heard of the caskets referred to as ‘beds’ before.

“They’re called caskets and they are intended for dead bodies,” Terence clarified.

“Can I go in one!?” The boy started to jump up and down as though he was on a trampoline.

“When you die you can,” Terence replied. The dandelion yellow wallpaper in the room was painful to look at. Every time his gaze fell upon a wall, Terence felt as though he was staring into the sun.  There was an ache behind his eyes and the kid’s energetic hopping was starting to disorient him. The kid stopped upon hearing this and protruded his lip.

“When will I die!?” he whined.

“78 years is the average life span of a male,” Terence informed him. “Your demise will likely be around that age.” The boy crossed his arms and fell to his bum.

“Please, mister?!” he pouted, his eyes wide and watery. Terence shrugged. Why not? He stood, beckoning for the kid to follow him. The fox boy flung up his paws in delight and skipped triumphantly behind Terence.

“Which casket?” Terence asked the child. Without hesitation, the boy pointed to a sleek casket made of cherry wood. It was the most expensive casket Terence possessed. The boy had classy taste! Laughing, the kid climbed Terence like a lemur and leapt into the casket’s interior. There was a light padding of footsteps before Jaune and the boy’s mother entered the casket selection room. Jaune raised her thin eyebrows when she saw Terence loitering in the middle of the room like a shadow. The boy peeked his head over the lip of the casket.

“Hey mom!” he cried. “Look at me, I’m dead!” The mother appeared as though she was about to have a breathing spell.

“Pip!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in there?!” Mint extracted her son from the casket, all the while scowling Terence from the corner of her eye. “How could you let my Pip climb into a coffin!?” she shrieked, forehead wrinkled in distress. Terence was confused by the woman’s anger toward him. People’s emotions always confused him.

“Actually, I let him climb into a casket,” Terence corrected her. “A coffin is typically hexagonal in shape and narrows at the foot.” The woman tightened her grip on Pip’s hand. Her eyes were open in surprise and her head was shaking back and forth as though she didn’t understand the difference.

“Okay, maybe I should just go to a different funeral home,” Mint articulated. Terence assured her that if she wanted a coffin for her father, he could easily order one.  This statement only made the woman leave more quickly, dragging her son behind her. The boy waved goodbye to Terence as he dangled from his frantic mother’s hand.

Jaune had managed to stop the woman before she left. Terence heard her apologize profusely for Terence’s behavior. Meanwhile, Terence stood right where he had been left, trying desperately to figure out what he had done wrong. The woman agreed to return back to the funeral home at a time when Terence would not be present.

“I don’t want my child in the hands of that freak!” she spat, before stomping out of the funeral home. Terence was genuinely hurt by Mint’s outrage. After her boisterous exit, Terence morosely marched up the steps to the main level of Amigone Funeral Home.

When Jaune saw his woebegone expression, she touched him lightly on the arm, “Listen, sweetie,” she said, “you can’t let little boys crawl into caskets―you understand? People think we’re weird enough already! Now I know you can’t help being seven feet tall and the width of an uncooked noodle―what with that hyperwhatchamacallit disorder―”

“Hyperthyroidism,” Terence sighed.

“Yeah, whatever. My point is this: when people enter this funeral home, you can’t be the scientific embalmer. You have to be the social butterfly―like Wilson,” Terence frowned. Jaune compared him to his charming counterpart, Ash Wilson on a regular basis. Jaune took his hand and patted it gently.

“Don’t look so sad, Terence! You’re not a freak, you’re……special.”  Terence raised one of his thick, dark eyebrows menacingly and asked Jaune if she had gotten around to cleaning the coach yet.

“The last removal I did was yesterday night. A man’s body was discovered in a mud pit by that farm on the outskirts of town. You may need to use a chisel to scrape the encrusted manure from the bumper,” Terence bent over so that his pallid eyes bore into Jaune’s warm, dark features. “And if you scratch the paint, it’s coming out of your next pay cheque!” Jaune stared back with an equal intensity. She was the only one who didn’t collapse under Terence’s cold gaze.

“Mmm hmm! Challenge accepted!” she said, swiping her fingers, moodily.  

The woman returned the next day, this time leaving her child in the custody of Ash Wilson. Terence was tucked away in the embalming room whilst Jaune explained the options for the disposition of Mint’s father. Terence could hear the over protective mother’s ho humming from the opposite side of the wall.

“No, I don’t like the colour of that wood, it clashes with my father’s clothing,” the woman groaned. “No, I don’t want a casket made of metal, it’s far too industrial for me.” Terence wanted to step out of the prep room, wearing his bloodied gloves and say, “If you want to think outside the box, we also have urns!” In his mind’s eye, Terence imagined the woman’s mouth drop and eyes distend in response to this comment. He chuckled; the woman had a stick up her butt a mile long! The phone in his pocket vibrated. Terence groaned. He swore people abstained from calling him until they knew he was in the preparation room.

“Don’t call me while I’m embalming!” Terence pronounced over the phone.

“What?!” The voice belonged to Ash Wilson. “Sorry, Terence, it’s an emergency! Pip has disappeared! I swear, I blinked and he was gone!”

“Well then, I suppose he must have evaporated. After all, a boy his age would typically be composed of 70% water.”

“That’s very interesting, Terence, but I’ll be in deep manure if we don’t find this kid.”

“Where were you two nights ago when I was in deep manure, fishing out a man’s slimy dead corpse?” There was silence on Ash’s end. “Good-bye, Wilson.” Terence hung up and turned his phone off to prevent any more distractions. The latex gloves squeaked as Terence pulled them over his long hands and the sleeves of his embalming gown. He grabbed a pair of angular forceps and inserted them into the incision he had made in the jugular vein.  The globular bits of coagulated blood poured onto the table and tumbled down the side into the drain like blobs of jam.

“Whatcha doin?” Pip emerged from under the cabinet beneath the sink. Terence startled, dropping the forceps.  He was speechless.

“How did you―but you were with….you can’t be in here!!!”

“I’m playing hide and seek!” The kid announced, sweetly. “It’s a secret though!” Terence swallowed. How had Pip gotten in without Terence’s knowledge!! The preparation room doors were always sealed shut!! If word got out that Terence allowed a 4-year old boy in his embalming room, he’d lose his license for sure! “Why are you dressed like a doctor?” Pip questioned. “What’s that red stuff on you?” Terence stepped in front of the preparation table that held up the corpse of Pip’s grandpa.

“It’s blood,” Terence answered truthfully. The kid cocked his head, inquisitively. He still bore  the costume of a fox.  “I’m, uh, in the middle of a procedure,”Terence continued. He could still hear the griping of the boy’s mother in the next room. What would she say if all of a sudden her son materialized from a mysterious door hidden behind a curtain?! 

“Can I help?” The boy asked enthusiastically. Terence shook his head and informed Pip that he had to earn his funeral director’s license before he could assist in the preparation process. Much to Terence’s chagrin, Mint and Jaune were both chattering away within the parameters of the preparation room. Terence would be caught if he tried to sneak the little boy out. He had no option but to call upon the aid of Ash Wilson.

“What do you mean he’s in the preparation room!?” Ash’s voice rose with agitation.

“I don’t know, Wilson, you were the one who blinked. I need a distraction. Jaune and that infernal woman who already thinks I’m a screwball are in the casket selection room. They’ll see me if I come out with Pip.” Terence could hear Ash whimpering; his coworker was particularly bad when it came to improvisation.  Pip was tugging on his pant leg, demanding to say hello to whoever was on the other end of the phone. The boy tugged so hard he almost pulled Terence’s pants down! Pip smiled gleefully when Terence surrendered possession of the phone.

Ash huffed and rubbed his face. He shouldn’t have blinked. Now he had to go and make a fool of himself to correct his mistake.  Ash took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. He figured he’d take a few minutes to meditate before humiliating himself. He slowly exhaled. Straightening himself up, he swung open the door. Jaune was showing Mint a relatively cheap pine casket, which happened to be situated directly adjacent to the preparation room.

“Oh no! Ma’am, you definitely don’t want that casket!” Ash stepped in front of the pine box, blocking the woman’s view. She blinked, flustered. Jaune crossed her arms; though her lips were sealed, Ash could tell she was sucking her teeth in annoyance.

“Wilson, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be watching dear little Pip?” Jaune’s voice was both sweet and sour at the same time.

“Yes. He’s having a blast in there. I just couldn’t help but overhear you say you wanted a pine casket. Trust me, ma’am, you don’t!” Mint blew an exasperated breath.

“Why not!?” She demanded. Ash didn’t have a proper answer to that question. Jaune narrowed her eyes in expectation.

“Go on, Mr. Casket King,” she probed. Ash picked his brain for an adequate response. He spat out the first thing that came to mind.

“Because pine tastes sweeter to worms!” he exclaimed. “You don’t want creepy crawlies nibbling through your father’s eternal resting bed, do you?!” Ash took the woman by the arm and forcefully directed her toward the opposite end of the casket selection room. “You want to pick something on THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE SUSPICIOUS RED CURTAINS,” Ash told her.  At that moment, the reason behind Ash’s bizarre behavior became painfully obvious to Jaune. Swallowing her pride, she fed into Ash’s deception scheme and suggested that Mrs. Hallows take a look at the mahogany casket which was furthest from the ‘suspicious red curtains.’

When Terence heard the cue, he immediately escorted Pip out. The boy stealthily darted from the preparation room to the kid’s room without so much as a swishing noise. He truly was quick as a fox. Ash diverted his gaze just in time to make eye contact with Terence, who nodded before slinking back into the comfort of his embalming lab. Before his timely exit, the boy had asked Terence a troubling question.

“Have you seen my grandfather? I’m trying to find him because mom said he’s lost.” Luckily Terence hadn’t had time to answer. Even if he had, Terence wouldn’t have known what to say. The boy didn’t understand, his grandpa was dead.

“You know what, Mrs. Hallows, now that I think of it, the worms won’t be able to get at the pine casket because it will be buried too deep for their survival,” Ash said. Mint was not impressed.

“THEN I’LL TAKE IT FOR GOD’S SAKE!” she growled.

When the decisions had all been made, and the contracts signed, the three funeral directors sat in a circle in the lounge. They drank coffee and glared at each other for a good half an hour before Jaune finally spoke.

“I hope you clowns realize we’re going to get one hell of a strange review from this family!” Ash laughed nervously in response. As for Terence, he avoided the woman’s firey gaze by staring into his mug. A painful lump was growing in his throat. He swallowed hard. The child’s words echoed in his head over and over. Mom told me he was lost. Terence was angry. Furious. The woman Mint had used the phrase we lost grandpa instead of grandpa’s dead. She replaced the word dead with a colloquialism to avoid the discomfort of explaining what death meant to her son. Unfortunately for her, Pip was too young to understand colloquialisms.

“He literally believes his grandfather to be lost. He thinks he’s just playing a game of hide and seek,” Terence thought out loud. He often did so subconsciously. As he looked up from his mug, he was met with two startled and slightly concerned faces.

“Terence, what in God’s creation are you rambling about? Are you hearin voices or what?” The child’s innocent tone rang through Terence’s head, yet again.

“Something like that,” he replied. Jaune just shook her head and made a mental note to contact his psychotherapist.

 “I don’t care how swift this lady’s kid is! You two buck up for tomorrow’s visitation! If you let that kid out of your sight one more time, you better bet we’re going to get sued!” Terence reminded Jaune of the sign he had posted outside of the kid’s room. It read: This room is generally unauthorized. Use at your own discretion. We are not liable for your children. Jaune just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“That sign means squat!” she retorted. “We liable and ain’t no sign gonna tell people otherwise―understand?!”

As it turned out, Pip was not present during the visitation.  As Terence made uncomfortable acquaintances with the friends and family of Pip’s grandfather, he couldn’t help but notice the absence of Pip, himself. Why was the boy not present to say good-bye to his grandfather? The man’s body would only be on display for the afternoon and evening. Then, it would be sent to a crematorium to be cremated. As much as Terence despised Mint Hallows, he didn’t want her son to be deprived of an opportunity to see his grandfather for the last time. For this reason, he sought out Mint and tapped her tentatively on the shoulder.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sneered in disgust. “Meet my ex-husband, Barnaby.” Terence shook hands with a short, disgruntled looking man. His face was thin and his hair was a gray fuzz atop his head. There were heavy lines around the man’s mouth as well as dark circles beneath his eyes. Terence didn’t blame the man for looking the way he did, Mint was a tiresome woman.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your sculptures, Mr. Coon,” he said, warmly. “I tried to buy my ex-wife here one of those gorgeous haring sculptures for her third twenty-ninth birthday last year, but she refused, informing me that she was too stuck up to have a ‘lawn ornament.’ I really hope she hasn’t been too much of a pain in your a*s.”

“How dare you!?” Mint shrieked like a shrill parrot and jabbed her ex-husband in the ribs. Terence was feeling more than a little uneasy. He cleared his throat.

“If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, where is your son?” A look of contempt spread across the woman’s tight features.

“Why would I tell you something like that!?” she huffed.  “So you can molest my child!?”

“I have no intention of―”

“ I ought to report you to the authorities!”  The woman stomped off, jabbing her pointy heels into the plush of the carpet. Barnaby was left rolling is eyes and chuckling.

“You’ll have to excuse her. She cages that poor boy Pip up like a monkey in the zoo! She wouldn’t let him come today. She thought the sight of his dead grandfather would traumatize him. He’s at home with the sitter. He’ll be at the funeral on Saturday, though. The sitter’s busy that day. Poor kid. Wish she’d let me spend some time with him.” Mr. Hallows left sighing miserably and shaking his head.  Terence felt a pain in his chest. His stomach was flipping and his eyes felt hot. Terence moaned. He was feeling again. Terence despised his emotions, they always made him do seemingly stupid deeds. If Terence didn’t do something, Pip would never understand the finality of death. The boy would grow up believing he had lost his grandpa. He would hold himself responsible for his grandfather’s disappearance.

“Terence.” Ash broke Terence’s bought of reflection. He pulled Terence aside and lowered his voice. “That woman Mint is a real piece of work! She made me empty out half a palette of cosmetics on her father’s face! I tried to tell her he was going to look like a member of the circus, but she kept insisting that he was too pale.” Terence was hardly listening. His eyes were wrinkled in thought.  He couldn’t have cared less about the clownish complexion of the dead man’s face.

“Wilson,” he said, eyes still glazed, “call the crematorium. Tell them to move tonight’s cremation to Saturday night.”

“What?! Why?” Ash raised his eyebrows in surprise. Terence ignored the question. He didn’t even appear to have heard it. Ash let loose a long sigh. Terence was in his artistic dreamland. Ash would later have to remind Terence not to forget his car, as Terence usually did when he was in the midst of one of his absent minded spells.  “Oh, and Wilson,” Terence added, “don’t tell Jaune about this.”

It was ten o’clock on a bright Saturday morning. The mourners of Mrs. Hallows’ father were arranged in rows. They were like a sea of sadness. One woman would start to cry and then sure enough, the entire pew would start. The tears came and went like waves. Terence surmised that Mint’s father had, in all probability, been nothing like her. If he had, there wouldn’t have been near as many people breathing in the same funeral chapel―his funeral chapel.  Pip sat swinging his legs beside his mother at the front pew. On a polished table sat a simple wooden urn. It was supposed that the ashes of Pip’s deceased grandpa were contained in the urn; however, they were, in actuality, the ashes of another. Under the stairs of Amigone Funeral Home was a closet filled with boxes of ash―human ash. On more than one occasion, Terence had placed the cremated remains of another’s loved one in the closet for safe keeping until a family member could pick them up. Many of these families never returned to reclaim the particulates of their loved one. And so, the lonely parcels collected dust on the shelves. What a sad thought it was: to die, disintegrate and then be packed in a box and placed as storage on a shelf like a can of old beans.  In Terence’s mind, he was putting a person’s neglected remains to good use. He was also giving a sheltered little boy the opportunity to bid adieu to his beloved grandfather. Terence would wait until the reception. He would borrow Pip while his mother gargled spiked punch, and show him his grandfather, whole and waiting in the casket selection room.

Terence hardly had to do anything to gain the interest of the little boy. People shuffled among each other, dropping crumbs, and laughing as though no one had even died. Terence couldn’t explain why, but receptions always disgusted him. It was during this time that Terence saw the true ugly colours of the human race. The people who appeared to share the sadness of their grieving friends during the funeral service, suddenly turned into free-meal mooching mongrels, abandoning their ‘friends’ for an overly buttered finger sandwich. In the past, Terence had warned many people not to trust these advantageous dogs. Rarely were Terence’s suggestions taken seriously. People either laughed at him or quietly backed away as though he were a madman, whispering and staring at him from a distance.   

Terence only had to appear for a mere minute before Pip skipped merrily to his side. His fox costume was gone and replaced with a gray suit and black tie. Children looked wrong in suits, like miniature adults. In the end, that’s what kids were really, miniature adults.

“I have something to show you,” Terence told Pip. “Follow me.” The kid laughed merrily and obeyed.

“Where are we going?” he asked insistently. “Are we there yet?” When they reached the casket selection room Terence knelt to the ground to look the child in the eyes.

“You told me you lost your grandfather,” Terence said. The kid nodded, his smile widened.

“Did you find him?” Pip asked. Terence shook his head.

“He never was lost. Lost is a colloquialism for death.” Pip cocked his head sideways. He didn’t understand. Terence sighed. “Climb on my shoulders. I’ll show you.”  The kid saddled Terence’s neck as though he was on a horse. Terence rose and uncovered the lid of the casket in front of him. When the boy saw his grandfather, eyes closed, arms folded and resting over his chest, he screamed.

“GRANDPA! WAKE UP!” he cried. Terence cringed; the boy was screaming right in his ear.

“He’s not asleep! He’s dead,” Terence stated. He gently placed Pip on the carpet and dragged a chair over to the casket for the boy to stand on. Pip stood, tears pooling in his normally joyous eyes.

“When will I see him again?” he whined.

“Never,” Terence answered truthfully. “When someone dies, they’re gone forever.”

“Did he die because of me?” Pip asked, sniffling. Terence laughed.

“You don’t seem like the homicidal type to me!” The kid laughed too, though Terence doubted he understood the term ‘homicidal.’ Then Pip sobbed and sobbed and all Terence could do was watch.

“Oh, Lord!” Ash entered the room. His hand was over his mouth in shock when he saw the red, tear soaked face of the boy beside his dead grandfather. He looked to Terence. “Have you bloody lost your mind!? That boy’s woman is livid! She’s ready to commit homicide up there if she doesn’t find Pip!” Pip looked to Terence at the mentioning of the word ‘homicide.’

“Did grandpa die because of mommy?” Pip questioned, wiping is goopy nose onto his sleeve. Terence bellowed with laughter. He could certainly see the boy’s mother clubbing somebody over the head! Terence was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Meanwhile, Ash stood at the entrance of the room mouth agape and hands raised in surrender.

“You’re completely cracked, Terence. You know that right?!” Terence stifled his laughter long enough to tell Pip to say good-bye to his grandpa. The kid patted his grandpa’s hand and said goodbye before Terence closed the lid.

Pip returned to his mother, frowning. When Mint saw Terence it was clear she blamed him for her child’s discontent. Her malignant expression was sharp enough to bore holes through his skull! She definitely could commit homicide; perhaps not against her own father, but certainly against anyone who threatened the safety of her child. Terence swallowed. He hoped that wouldn’t be him!

“Mommy, why didn’t you tell me grandpa died?” Pip pouted in her arms. The woman’s brows came together in anguish. She hugged her child close to her breast.

“What did you tell my Pip!?” she hissed at Terence.

“The truth.” The woman’s face twisted in rage. She set down her son and advanced toward Terence like a puma pouncing its prey. Her hand was raised, ready to strike him, when, all of a sudden, Pip shrieked a bloodcurdling shriek. Mint watched in amazement as her son hobbled over to Terence and hugged his leg.  

“Don’t hurt him, mommy, he’s my friend!” The boy clung to Terence protectively. Terence could feel his feet prickling as the boy cut off his circulation. Mint’s lip trembled at the sight of her son’s betrayal. She collapsed to the ground, shoulders heaving as she cried, wretchedly.

Terence stood gobsmacked. A little boy was crying into his pant leg and his mother was thrashing and dumping tears all over the carpet. Had everyone else from the reception already gone home? Where were Jaune and Ash when he needed them?! 

“Uh―” Terence searched desperately for the right words to say. “There, there.” He sounded about as sincere as a robot. Just when Terence thought Mint was about to claw a hole in the carpet, Ash came to his rescue. He smoothly helped the woman to her feet, hugging her and patting her back like a true caregiver.

“I was just trying to be a good mother!” she wept.

“I know. I’m here for you, ma’am,” Ash assured her.  Terence observed the actions of his bushy-haired cohort with somewhat of a jealous eye. He wished he could show people, the way Ash could, how much he cared. At least Pip seemed to see. The boy finally released Terence’s leg. Terence gasped as he felt the warmth of blood flow back toward his numb foot. As he attempted to rub the feeling back into the limb, Mint approached him slowly with red eyes and quivering lips. Ash was right behind her, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her shoulder.

“I, uh, would like to apologize for the way I treated you,” she sniffed. “Other than his grandfather, Pip has never shown that much―” the woman’s voice cracked, “affection for anyone. I guess I lost control.”

“Yes, you did,” Terence agreed, brushing himself off.

“Terence!” Ash barked, narrowing his eyes in disapproval.

“I mean, I accept your apology,” Terence corrected himself.  

About a week later, Mint and her son returned to Amigone Funeral Home for the ashes of grandpa. Terence was glad to see that someone cared enough about their dead loved one to take his remains into their care. Without a family, those parcels were nothing but boxes of dust, identifiable only by means of a faded label. Terence handed the box to Pip, who was back in his fox sleeper.

When the boy asked Terence how it was that grandpa was able to fit into such a small package, Terence answered, “He was sent to a special room where he was burned. His dust was then collected and placed into that container.” Funnily enough, the boy seemed to be okay with the thought of holding a box of grandpa dust. Mint thanked Terence for all of his help, although, Terence could tell by the sneer of her thin lips that she was still disgusted by him. When the two were out the door hand in hand, Terence overheard Pip’s perky voice.

“Mom, when I grow up, I want to be just like him!” Terence laughed so hard he had to sit down.

The End

 

 

Author's Note

If there are any reoccuring technical errors ( such as punctuation or grammar) in this story let me know! Most of all, I would like to know what you think. Do you find this entertaining? Ridiculous? Do you like the characters? I appreciate your feedback!

Reviews

[C. Rose]

Enjoyed the premise. Terence is very well developed. I was surprised by how 'hooking' the plot was for plain fiction (non-fantasy, non-sci-fi). I found it entertaining, part heartwarming, part mischievous. While I liked the characters, I didn't feel like I could see them. True listing physical characteristics can be awkward, and you did manage to fully describe the main character smoothly - I need more. A few descriptors for the mother, and staff and a bucket load more for Pip. While I saw his personality I had trouble seeing his age and face.
Also had a hard time pinning down the roles of the staff. Who was in charge. You have that whole "clean the coach" dialogue that made me think Terence was in charge, but Terence is the embalmer and had to pull a body out of a muddy swamp. Who's in charge? Ash? He seems too - I don't know - not in charge.

Some line by line stuff:
“Her expression spoke words” - spoke volumes?
“about to have a breathing spell” - huh? Dizzy spell, fainting spell?
“Look at me, I'd dead!” - Bwahahah. Awesome.
Don't be afraid to say “said”. I do the same thing, but it was recently explained to me that this distracts from the dialogue and should be limited to when you really mean it. “articulated” “sighed”
“Woebegone” :D :D :D
“and asked if she had gotten around to cleaning the coach yet” - why not just have this as dialogue instead of telling it?
“swiping her fingers, moodily” huh?
“Terence was tucked away” :D :D
“ of a procedure,”Terence” missing a space before Terence
“FOR GOD'S SAKE!” she growled. - I see growling as undertone anger, not ALLCAPS
Sometimes who says what is confusing when you skip the ( , said soandso) bit and the sentence after a quote has a different character. For example ““Terence, what in God’s creation are you rambling about? Are you hearin voices or what?” The child’s innocent tone rang through Terence’s head, yet again.”

Great read. You put a lot of depth into your characters.

[Margo Seuss]

Thanks for your advice! When I get a chance I'll take a look at these issues.

Sometimes I forget that people read my stories without having already read the others involving these characters. It is established clearly in other stories that Terence is the ower of Amigone Funeral Home. In the funeral industry everbody does everything ( but it really does depend on the type of business). If it is a small and independently owned ( like Amigone ) then the funeral directors ( Terence, Ash, and Juane) will also deal with maintenance of the funeral home. In larger businesses, cleaning companies are hired for that. Ash ( as you did not see in this story) is a funeral director who only deals with arranging funerals ( he does not embalm). The reason he does not embalm is because he his hemophobic! :) Jaune is a funeral director just like Terence ( she embalms and arranges). As I hope you could see, Terence specializes more with the dead than the living!

I know what you mean when you say you can't 'see' the characters. Creating realistic and yet interesting characters is a constant struggle for me. I will certainly expand upon the descriptions of Mint and Pip though.

I have written many stories revolving around these characters. I beleive these short stories would be best if they were sort of compiled into a book ( kind of like Sherlock Holmes). Each story has a seperate plot, but contains the same characters and world. Sometimes I think, if read separate from the others, these stories almost give people the feel of 'coming into a series too late.' Hope that makes sense!!! If you are interested in learning more about these characters, check some of my other stories out! Thanks as always for your advice. :)

[C. Rose]

Definitely could see that Terence specializes more with the dead than the living. Probably the only "came to the series too late" feeling, for me, was the incomplete description of the funeral home and staff - this could be due to you already having described them in previous stories. I'll check it out :)

[Margo Seuss]

Thank-you! I appreciate that!! I reccomend Five Hundred Pound Catastrophe, Biological Warfare, and Abracadavers. I'll be sure to take a look at your short stories as well.