Waking The Dead Out Of The Living

The funeral was crowded. Students, family and other friends stood outside, around the coffin and the priest who spoke from the bible.
Charlotte was one among them, in front, struggling with her tears.
Seth is dead, she kept repeating to herself.
It’s my entire fault, she knew.
If she hadn’t done what she was doing in class, whatever she was doing, he wouldn’t be dead.
He would still be here and they would be at the movies on a Saturday evening, not at a funeral, his funeral.
The sky was bright and sunny, for such a dark and grieving day.
No one knew, except Charlotte, that she was the one who killed him.
They, who ever they are, concluded that Seth died of a heart attack. Charlotte had almost laughed.
A heart attack?
He’s 16 and they think he had a heart attack.
You’d think they’d be more logical.
Charlotte’s mother stood beside her, also shedding some tears as she rubbed her daughter’s back.
But Charlotte squirmed away, not finding any comfort in the gesture.

It felt like an eternity that the funeral was going on, little by little, people disappeared and went home.
“Every one’s gone home, honey.” Her mother said. “Let’s go home.”
Charlotte didn’t respond, she only starred at the fresh new dirt that covered Seth’s coffin.
She didn’t hear her mother sigh, she couldn’t hear anything.
She didn’t hear her mother’s foot steps walk away or the car drive out of the cemetery.
Not too long after, Charlotte found herself sitting on the grass, passing a hand through the cold dirt that had earlier been a hole.
A hole that should have never been dug, Charlotte thought and violent tears started to fall again.
Loud sobs rang out of her throat and her heart felt bruised and beaten.
Her black dress was burning from the heat of the sun and she only wished it would burn her to death.
Gripping her dark hair, Charlotte pulled until she felt the roots in her head squirm and pinch.
She growled and let go, feeling ridiculous and depressed.

When she got home, after a long walk, Charlotte didn’t bother to clean the dirt from her hands; neither did she bother to change or take of her shoes.
She felt numb everywhere, she felt like a zombie, as she lay on her bed and starred at the ceiling.
Eventually, she fell into a confusing, half-dream.
She wasn’t even sure if it was a dream as she heard something knock against her bedroom window.
She felt exhausted as she got up and went over to it and opened the blinds.
A scream shattered from her throat as Seth’s face faced hers from the other side of the window. He was in a crouch, on the roof, his hands and arms on his knees as he looked at Charlotte with a frown.
Suddenly, he lunged and the glass broke.
Charlotte fell back onto the ground and kicked the air.
Her eyes shot open to see the Seth-free room and the unbroken window with the blinds shut.
She didn’t bother getting up from the hard ground; instead, she stayed there and cried.
She cried, knowing somewhere deep inside that this wasn’t finished.
This is just the awakening, she thought, not having a clue what she was thinking about.