At the Funeral

Made for a contest. Kind of dark because I tried to model it off of Edgar Allen Poe's style of writing stories. Hope you enjoy!

I watched the candles on the alter flicker slowly as the man on the podium gave his speech. My hands felt like stones; heavy and numb, sitting on my lap lifelessly, the fingernails long and un-filed, with red nail polish chipping from the edges. I wondered how they had been so quick and relentless only moments ago.

No, not moments, days.

Had it really been days? I searched in my head for some memory of the time that had passed, but all I could picture was the night, when the candles were flickering much like they were now, with the same air of death around them.

The pupils of my eyes shrank as I continued staring into the flame, but I did not look away. If I did I knew my gaze would only turn towards what lay placidly next to the pulpit, encompassed in a bed of polished oak, with various wilting flowers cluttering the floor in front of it. It seemed almost to be calling to me, that thing inside the coffin, forcing me to turn my head and remember, forcing me to feel those indescribable feelings I had felt so vividly before, and had replaced my human body with one of mocking stone, identical on the outside but irrevocably changed.

"Analise! Analise, my dear!" came a whisper behind me, which felt almost as though it were from a different life, as though a ghost were speaking to me.

"Analise! Stand up my dear! They're carrying the casket out,"

The candle flickered slowly, but the wax had diminished and there wasn't much life in it. I didn't want to look away; I didn't want to see what was inevitable for me to see. I didn't want to face him again.

"Analise why aren't you listening to me?" the ghost was whispering harder now, and I felt a pull at my stone arm. The ghost wanted me to stand up, but my stone legs seemed cemented to the ground.
Then the candle flickered one last moment before going out in a silent puff. The weight of my hands seemed to grow so unbearably that my shoulders ached with the weight. I was going to sink down into the earth from this weight; I would be buried under the earth like him, casket-less, tomb-less.

"Analise! What has gotten into you?" I was wrenched upright, my stone legs cracking and shaking from the weight of my stone body, my stone hands. The black lace dress which flowed down to my ankles seemed instead like a million black spiders, weaving me my own eternal silk shroud.

My eyes were still on the burned out candle, but I could feel the presence of the casket as it was carried slowly down the aisle. It was a black hole, pulling me towards it, and though I tried, I couldn't stop my neck from turning when he was right beside me, laying there with that same expression, pale and lifeless, mocking me with his deadness.

He had won.

The memory had come back just as he had planned; though the August sun shone heavily through the church windows, all I could see was the thick and endless night. The people in the church were all finely dressed in their suits and ties, but all I could see were the devilish shadows that had followed me ever since I had left my house, with florid steps and that knife, gleaming like silver, concealed in my hand. Then there was that room, and him sitting peacefully on the bed, the book spread across his lap, the black and white pictures strewn across his floor and hands. He was gazing at them with such nostalgia and contentment, reminiscing in the past days before that merciless curse had descended on him. I had slithered like a snake to his room, waiting behind him like a tiger watching its prey. My hands, they had not been stones nor flesh but liquid; soundless and flexible, holding the knife artfully in the lamplight.

Then that one second, when he had realized what was about to fall upon him. He had turned only a millimeter, but that was enough for him to see, enough for him to contort his face in terror as the weapon came down upon him.

The blood was as deep as my fingernails.

The dull voices that sang out sad hymns in the dusty church could not block out the screaming, the endless, horrifying screaming. And then the gurgling and moaning as screams were no longer possible, as the energy and life within him slowly dissipated. But he was there now, in front of her. Oh, what fools these mourners were! Could they not see that their corpse was alive? He lay there with his vengeful eyes open and bloodshot, speaking again and again of the crime, that horrible blasphemous crime. Speaking of the knife and the pain, and the vicious snake that stood in front of him, with hands and heart of stone, covered in a shroud of spiders.

He was screaming, screaming my name and as he did the spiders crawled up to my face, screaming along with him in their high pitched squeal, their pincers aimed at my throat. Then the scream came from my own throat, and when the mourners did not turn their heads I realized that it was I who was the ghost. It was I who was the living dead, who was forced to be a stone that had only memory, horrifying and frigid memory, serving in an endless purgatory of her sins.

Author's Note

What do you think?

Reviews

[can sexy be named?]

i loved it! it didnt seem like a horror story per say but very very good.

[emily joe]

this is awesome. you deserved to win the contest (:

[Caitlynxoxo]

i loved the description in this. I've only ever been to one funeral, my grandmother's, and i remember feeling like this, sort of like i was the one who had died. you illustrated perfectly what mourners go through, which sometimes can be a very difficult task to do :) Thanks for sharing, 100/100!!

xoxo Caitlyn xoxo

[lostboy]

bravo it caught me at the start and held me to the finish very good work

[Jenni Piech]

Great story! I really enjoyed reading it. I love the imagery you've used, I saw it/felt it really clearly as I was reading, like the stone hands, black spiders, etc. I think my only criticism would be this line "I had slithered like a snake to his room, waiting behind him like a tiger watching its prey"... it seems very cliched to me and that always stops me being able to lose myself in a story. Other than that, it really sucked me in and i loved the ending :)