Sequel: Requiem of Revenge ›
When Three Becomes Two
Burial
No One’s PoV
Billie and Mike forced themselves away from the coffin, away from the friend they would never see again. Still in shock over seeing the dead body, just like when they saw it at the hospital, Billie and Mike were silent as they walked alongside the hearse to the spot for the grave.
They watched numbly as the coffin was slid from the hearse and into the hole—a hole six feet under, where the body would rest forever, rotting away and removing all traces of the life it had once held.
And then dirt began to be heaped upon the coffin. Mike began to cry quietly again, as did Billie, and soon the relatives did as well.
This was it. Tre would have no further part to play in anyone’s life. His part was over.
The grief that Billie and Mike had been holding back the past week crashed through the barriers they had both built in their minds to shield them from its overwhelming power.
And now waves of it hit them, hit them to the steady beat and rhythm of the dirt being heaped onto the coffin. It was pure agony to see your own friend go from being full of personality and life…to being stuffed in a box, under six feet of dirt, to rot away into a skeleton and, eventually, dust to become part of the soil itself…
The dirt finally reached the surface. It was time to turn away. It was time to leave behind these pain-drenched memories, to forget the scarring death of a friend, to push away the hole created in your life…and wait, until eventually, the sands of time healed grief’s wounds.
And yet time was a cruel mistress to the dead. Time may have healed wounds, but it would keep your loved ones away, denying any communication with them until you went beyond to join them…
And it would never preserve the body, leaving some last reminder of who that person was. No. The body would rot, skin caving in, eyes devoured by maggots, limbs losing all flesh, muscle, and blood…until that person became hideous, yet forever hidden by wood and mineral alike.
The staff left, as did the family. Billie and Mike stayed there, staring at the pile of dirt.
Billie reached out a shaking hand toward the brilliant white tombstone, tracing each word with his fingers, mouthing them to himself, tears still coming down. After several minutes, he backed away.
“Did you write that epitaph?”
“Yes.”
“It’s…it’s perfect.” Billie said simply.
“Thank you.”
Mike put a hand around Billie’s shoulder, and together they left behind their entire world.
Billie and Mike forced themselves away from the coffin, away from the friend they would never see again. Still in shock over seeing the dead body, just like when they saw it at the hospital, Billie and Mike were silent as they walked alongside the hearse to the spot for the grave.
They watched numbly as the coffin was slid from the hearse and into the hole—a hole six feet under, where the body would rest forever, rotting away and removing all traces of the life it had once held.
And then dirt began to be heaped upon the coffin. Mike began to cry quietly again, as did Billie, and soon the relatives did as well.
This was it. Tre would have no further part to play in anyone’s life. His part was over.
The grief that Billie and Mike had been holding back the past week crashed through the barriers they had both built in their minds to shield them from its overwhelming power.
And now waves of it hit them, hit them to the steady beat and rhythm of the dirt being heaped onto the coffin. It was pure agony to see your own friend go from being full of personality and life…to being stuffed in a box, under six feet of dirt, to rot away into a skeleton and, eventually, dust to become part of the soil itself…
The dirt finally reached the surface. It was time to turn away. It was time to leave behind these pain-drenched memories, to forget the scarring death of a friend, to push away the hole created in your life…and wait, until eventually, the sands of time healed grief’s wounds.
And yet time was a cruel mistress to the dead. Time may have healed wounds, but it would keep your loved ones away, denying any communication with them until you went beyond to join them…
And it would never preserve the body, leaving some last reminder of who that person was. No. The body would rot, skin caving in, eyes devoured by maggots, limbs losing all flesh, muscle, and blood…until that person became hideous, yet forever hidden by wood and mineral alike.
The staff left, as did the family. Billie and Mike stayed there, staring at the pile of dirt.
Billie reached out a shaking hand toward the brilliant white tombstone, tracing each word with his fingers, mouthing them to himself, tears still coming down. After several minutes, he backed away.
“Did you write that epitaph?”
“Yes.”
“It’s…it’s perfect.” Billie said simply.
“Thank you.”
Mike put a hand around Billie’s shoulder, and together they left behind their entire world.