My uncle died. I didn't know him that well since he was a distant member of the family. Even so, I was still expected to attend the funeral with my mother. I'm not a fan of anything around the topic of death and I hate anything that's scary. I've always been uneasy about that kind of thing. My mother was late and I was already in the funeral home waiting for her to show. I stood and waited by the front door and noticed that not many people were there yet.
I entered the classroom a little bored. Today we were revising a few things in order to prepare for the final exam and, even though I was a little worried about my recent productivity, I simply didn’t feel like listening to the teacher. She was really intelligent and I usually liked her lectures, but today, I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. I want to clarify I was not depressed, I was just not in the mood.
Start writing...Abigail sat on the couch, her comfy spot. Her husband, Derrick, sitting across from her, in the ugly green chair. She hated that thing, but Derrick had wanted to keep it, saying it was his and nobody else would want it.
I’ve been trying so hard all of my life, to fit in. None of it has paid off. Why else would I be sitting here in this glass box, with that bright light above me right now? They think I am a freak. They call me “other.”
“That neighbor keeps staring at me through the window!” said Frank. Ill-tempered from the news he had received earlier in the day.
He came to our town, wrapped in red cloth and smelling of lavender. Atop a black horse he rode in, met with suspicious glares and cold shoulders. The man in red entered that, now, empty town which once prospered in the valley, below a steep cliff face, towering over our small homestead. I can see it now with my waking eyes, the man in red and the nightmare he hosted atop the mountain.
My mornings are always the same: take the dog for a walk, shower, and have coffee with the dead.
I turned my attention from the crowds to my brother. Just like all the others his eyes were awash with excitement as he too in the stands and crowds of dancers. He plucked two sticks of some grilled meat from a vendor with a smile and handed one over to me. I bit into it hesitantly, shocked by how flavorful the first bite was. I devoured it quickly, which brought laughter spilling from my brother’s lips. Being dead was not what I had expected or theorized. Everyone seemed so happy, unhindered by the reality that they all were dead. The anger that I felt earlier when I tried to hold onto those shreds of darkness and my worldly life flared through my body again. I gripped hard on the stick I was still holding in my hand, snapping it in half. Nobody seemed to notice or if they did they were just as unbothered by my anger as their current predicament. Even Shaun walked ahead of me, his step light as he led me out of the festival area and down a much quieter side street.
Disclaimer: Depictions and description of suicidal thoughts, suicidal intentions and mental health. Readers discretion advised. Please do not continue if you are triggered by the mentioned above.
"What the hell was that!?" The voice spoke in a scared tone.