Unedited. I have a shitload of homework. Enjoy, and peace;)
The funeral was in the ballroom.
Magic funerals were different. For one, there weren’t coffins. Instead the…bodies…were covered in a magical red cloth.
It was the color of blood.
The cloth didn’t cover their faces. And I was glad that I was in the back—too far to see anything.
The cloth was supposed to signify life, which I didn’t entirely understand.
Another way funerals were different: the mourning colors were red. Maybe it was too match the cloth, I didn’t know, I didn’t care.
The family of the deceased had arrived early this morning, weeping and broken. One woman, a mother of a fourteen year old boy, could barely hold herself up she was crying so hard. The tears forced her down, and she fell. Her husband helped her into the ballroom, his eyes desolate.
All you could see was red. I had turned a simple black dress into a red one, hoping it would suffice. It was a funeral. There was no need to look cute.
Ivonovich stood up in front of everyone in a crisp red suit. Aside from the occasional sob, the room was silent. “The names of the deceased are as follows: Henrietta Eames, Wendell Finch, Leah Williams, Taylor Smith, John Wright, Leonard Wilson, Enrique Chavez, Donovan Morgans, Reese Price, Colin O’Donnell, Tyler Cook, and Loretta Barnes.”
My throat dried up. I felt a stab of guilt pierce my heart. I knew Colin. All tall, blonde, and irritating with his obsession of Dragonball. I had never liked him. I had always been so brash. I brushed him off…
I closed my eyes. And then there was Mrs. Eames. We had never gotten along. Now she was gone forever.
My eyes stung and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it in. I had walked in late and taken an empty seat in the back row next to a man I had never seen before. I didn’t know where my friends were.
Honestly, I didn’t care.
Distantly, I thought of Michael. Why hadn’t we held a funeral for him? There probably had been one, just not at Bellows.
Night, I thought, guilt bubbling up in my stomach. It had been so long since I really thought about him, I was too busy thinking about myself. What if…what if Tempest had sent someone after him?
Night, I tried, hoping that this time it would work. I couldn’t focus on what Ivonovich was saying. I didn’t trust myself. All I wanted was to run out of the ballroom and keep running. I wanted to scream at the sky to return Night to me so that we could fly away and never return.
“Now, let us have a moment of silence for these twelve brave souls,” said Ivonovich. Her voice was quiet, but it seemed to reverberate through the vast room. I bowed my head along with hundreds of others, and I thought of Colin, arguing with Kyla, our Captain from last year, while Milo and I watched with matching smiles.
There were moments during practice where I could stand him. I remembered all five of us laughing in the locker room.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“You may pay your respects now,” she said. She moved to each of the twelve bodies and whispered something to them. A line began, snaking around the bodies. Oh God. I wouldn’t do this. I had only been to one funeral and my life, and that thankfully had been closed casket. The last thing I needed was to see more dead bodies. I stood up, planning on fleeing the ballroom all together when the surge of people pushed me forward.
I felt as if I were in the ocean and the waves were pushing me forward, never allowing me to catch my breath or slow down. I was pushed forward, and somehow ended up at the first body.
It was Colin.
All breath was knocked from my lungs.
Apparently, they didn’t believe in putting make up on the corpses or covering up the cause of death either. His eyes, fortunately, were closed. But I could just imagine them staring up at me hollowly—the way Scott had.
His blonde hair was almost grey. His thin lips were parted slightly.
I reached out to touch him, before taking my hand back. I shouldn’t touch him.
My thoughts were jumbled as I gazed down at him, unable to tear my eyes away.
How did he even die?
My heart sank. He was dead. I would never hear him griping at me for not watching the ball or for having my head in the clouds. He was gone.
He lay there before me—dead proof, and I still couldn’t accept it.
“He looks like he’s sleeping,” I mumbled. It seemed as though any moment he would sit up and ask me what the score was or tell me that despite the fact that we might be in a war—I had heard murmurs—we were going to have practice.
“Oh god,” I whispered, hugging myself. Tears blurred my vision, and though the room was silent, the silence was deafening.
He looked like he was asleep. I don’t know how long I stood there, holding back tears and staring at Colin—or what once was Colin—when Gwen gripped my elbow. I saw that she was holding back tears of her own.
End of sneak peek. I have like two more paragraphs written. Ugh. Never have time to write. Good think I called this a hiatus and out everything on hold.
The funeral was in the ballroom.
Magic funerals were different. For one, there weren’t coffins. Instead the…bodies…were covered in a magical red cloth.
It was the color of blood.
The cloth didn’t cover their faces. And I was glad that I was in the back—too far to see anything.
The cloth was supposed to signify life, which I didn’t entirely understand.
Another way funerals were different: the mourning colors were red. Maybe it was too match the cloth, I didn’t know, I didn’t care.
The family of the deceased had arrived early this morning, weeping and broken. One woman, a mother of a fourteen year old boy, could barely hold herself up she was crying so hard. The tears forced her down, and she fell. Her husband helped her into the ballroom, his eyes desolate.
All you could see was red. I had turned a simple black dress into a red one, hoping it would suffice. It was a funeral. There was no need to look cute.
Ivonovich stood up in front of everyone in a crisp red suit. Aside from the occasional sob, the room was silent. “The names of the deceased are as follows: Henrietta Eames, Wendell Finch, Leah Williams, Taylor Smith, John Wright, Leonard Wilson, Enrique Chavez, Donovan Morgans, Reese Price, Colin O’Donnell, Tyler Cook, and Loretta Barnes.”
My throat dried up. I felt a stab of guilt pierce my heart. I knew Colin. All tall, blonde, and irritating with his obsession of Dragonball. I had never liked him. I had always been so brash. I brushed him off…
I closed my eyes. And then there was Mrs. Eames. We had never gotten along. Now she was gone forever.
My eyes stung and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it in. I had walked in late and taken an empty seat in the back row next to a man I had never seen before. I didn’t know where my friends were.
Honestly, I didn’t care.
Distantly, I thought of Michael. Why hadn’t we held a funeral for him? There probably had been one, just not at Bellows.
Night, I thought, guilt bubbling up in my stomach. It had been so long since I really thought about him, I was too busy thinking about myself. What if…what if Tempest had sent someone after him?
Night, I tried, hoping that this time it would work. I couldn’t focus on what Ivonovich was saying. I didn’t trust myself. All I wanted was to run out of the ballroom and keep running. I wanted to scream at the sky to return Night to me so that we could fly away and never return.
“Now, let us have a moment of silence for these twelve brave souls,” said Ivonovich. Her voice was quiet, but it seemed to reverberate through the vast room. I bowed my head along with hundreds of others, and I thought of Colin, arguing with Kyla, our Captain from last year, while Milo and I watched with matching smiles.
There were moments during practice where I could stand him. I remembered all five of us laughing in the locker room.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“You may pay your respects now,” she said. She moved to each of the twelve bodies and whispered something to them. A line began, snaking around the bodies. Oh God. I wouldn’t do this. I had only been to one funeral and my life, and that thankfully had been closed casket. The last thing I needed was to see more dead bodies. I stood up, planning on fleeing the ballroom all together when the surge of people pushed me forward.
I felt as if I were in the ocean and the waves were pushing me forward, never allowing me to catch my breath or slow down. I was pushed forward, and somehow ended up at the first body.
It was Colin.
All breath was knocked from my lungs.
Apparently, they didn’t believe in putting make up on the corpses or covering up the cause of death either. His eyes, fortunately, were closed. But I could just imagine them staring up at me hollowly—the way Scott had.
His blonde hair was almost grey. His thin lips were parted slightly.
I reached out to touch him, before taking my hand back. I shouldn’t touch him.
My thoughts were jumbled as I gazed down at him, unable to tear my eyes away.
How did he even die?
My heart sank. He was dead. I would never hear him griping at me for not watching the ball or for having my head in the clouds. He was gone.
He lay there before me—dead proof, and I still couldn’t accept it.
“He looks like he’s sleeping,” I mumbled. It seemed as though any moment he would sit up and ask me what the score was or tell me that despite the fact that we might be in a war—I had heard murmurs—we were going to have practice.
“Oh god,” I whispered, hugging myself. Tears blurred my vision, and though the room was silent, the silence was deafening.
He looked like he was asleep. I don’t know how long I stood there, holding back tears and staring at Colin—or what once was Colin—when Gwen gripped my elbow. I saw that she was holding back tears of her own.
End of sneak peek. I have like two more paragraphs written. Ugh. Never have time to write. Good think I called this a hiatus and out everything on hold.
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