SimonW
Well-known member
This is something I've just typed up from out of nowhere. Criticisms and other things are welcome. Not sure where I'll be going with it.
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at a church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window. We were on the main road that led to the church. Dunsville was a small town with only one main street, the other side roads led to some cottages and houses further south.
It was a boring sunny day, the kind of day I could enjoy my birthday on. I know it was selfish of me to think this way, but it was hardly anyone’s fault that the two days would clash together. I just did not like the idea of seeing a dead body anytime soon. Yeah, I’m sure it sounds cool, but once you actually see one, you start feeling sad for some reason. The shock of it is almost unbearable.
And that leads to the church. As we parked in the front, my mother checked her makeup within the rear-view mirror. She was not fooling me. The only reason she came to the funeral was to see Brother David, a religious man of the Church. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened the car door and stepped out into the sunlight. As I did, the itchiness increased. The heat made me irritated. I almost wanted to yank the clothes from my body, but I knew my mother would not exactly approve of that.
The church doors were open and my mother and I wandered in. I felt slightly less hot now; the church was an old and airy place.
I gasped up in awe, as I kept on doing every Sunday we came to church. I still could not get over the largeness of the building. It looked so hollow upon the inside.
There were quite a few people dressed in black. Most of them were family that hardly visited. By now, I noticed my suit was itching again. I raised my hand to scratch my shoulder but my mother slapped my hand away just before Brother David came towards us. He was dressed in his usual priest robes, which I always thought made him look like he was wearing a dress. He had a look of remorse upon his face.
“I’m…terribly sorry for your loss, Catherine,” stated Brother David to my mom.
I studied Brother David’s face carefully. He had tenderness in his motions but had a rather strong jaw line. His black hair was well combed and most likely every strand placed in a specific spot. His eyes were a steely blue, half grey and half light blue. I glanced at his hands, which were about chest level, near my height. I was short for a thirteen year old. Brother David almost seemed like he was towering over me, as did my mother. But, I reckon it was the surroundings that made me feel that way.
My mother had responded as I was observing Brother David.
“Why, thank you, David,” she stated, blinking almost coyly.
I was disgusted at the way my mum was behaving. Brother David appeared to seem uneasy at my mother’s response and immediately backtracked in his conversation.
“How terrible, the way he died,” stated Brother David, glancing over in the direction of a stone slab upon which Uncle Rich’s coffin was situated.
“Henry, why don’t you go pay respects to Uncle Rich?” my mother suggested to me, her gaze still upon Brother David.
I glanced up at my mother and looked at her with defiance. She met my eyes with a glare and squeezed my hand slightly hard.
Sighing silently to myself, I let go as she did and made my way down between the pews, past Brother David and my mother and then past my relatives. Most of the women were in black and were crying their eyes out, holding over-used handkerchiefs in one hand or the other.
My Aunt Gladys was past a line of relatives wishing to pay respect to Uncle Rich. She accepted condolences from them after they paid their respects to Uncle Rich.
The sight of Uncle Rich was quite interesting. He was laid out flat in the coffin, his hands resting on his chest. His golden wedding band was noticeable because his bony hands were so white. When I glanced at him, lying there, I expected it to look morbid and depressing. Sort of like those horror comics I read. But, it wasn’t like that at all, really. His greyish hair was stylised and his profound chin was almost jutting out of the casket. His head was tipped upward, as if he was glancing upwards. His eyes were, respectively, closed. It was hard for me to see him properly, for my eyes barely made it over the open rim of the casket. Also, the casket was upon the stone altar of the Church. I forced myself to bow my head in respect and then walked past Uncle Rich’s dead corpse. The only thing I regretted was that Uncle Rich was not able to attend my birthday party after the Funeral. It would have been fun, having a dead person at your birthday party.
So far, that's all I got. No disrespect to churches, dead people and priests meant. All in good fun!
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at a church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window. We were on the main road that led to the church. Dunsville was a small town with only one main street, the other side roads led to some cottages and houses further south.
It was a boring sunny day, the kind of day I could enjoy my birthday on. I know it was selfish of me to think this way, but it was hardly anyone’s fault that the two days would clash together. I just did not like the idea of seeing a dead body anytime soon. Yeah, I’m sure it sounds cool, but once you actually see one, you start feeling sad for some reason. The shock of it is almost unbearable.
And that leads to the church. As we parked in the front, my mother checked her makeup within the rear-view mirror. She was not fooling me. The only reason she came to the funeral was to see Brother David, a religious man of the Church. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened the car door and stepped out into the sunlight. As I did, the itchiness increased. The heat made me irritated. I almost wanted to yank the clothes from my body, but I knew my mother would not exactly approve of that.
The church doors were open and my mother and I wandered in. I felt slightly less hot now; the church was an old and airy place.
I gasped up in awe, as I kept on doing every Sunday we came to church. I still could not get over the largeness of the building. It looked so hollow upon the inside.
There were quite a few people dressed in black. Most of them were family that hardly visited. By now, I noticed my suit was itching again. I raised my hand to scratch my shoulder but my mother slapped my hand away just before Brother David came towards us. He was dressed in his usual priest robes, which I always thought made him look like he was wearing a dress. He had a look of remorse upon his face.
“I’m…terribly sorry for your loss, Catherine,” stated Brother David to my mom.
I studied Brother David’s face carefully. He had tenderness in his motions but had a rather strong jaw line. His black hair was well combed and most likely every strand placed in a specific spot. His eyes were a steely blue, half grey and half light blue. I glanced at his hands, which were about chest level, near my height. I was short for a thirteen year old. Brother David almost seemed like he was towering over me, as did my mother. But, I reckon it was the surroundings that made me feel that way.
My mother had responded as I was observing Brother David.
“Why, thank you, David,” she stated, blinking almost coyly.
I was disgusted at the way my mum was behaving. Brother David appeared to seem uneasy at my mother’s response and immediately backtracked in his conversation.
“How terrible, the way he died,” stated Brother David, glancing over in the direction of a stone slab upon which Uncle Rich’s coffin was situated.
“Henry, why don’t you go pay respects to Uncle Rich?” my mother suggested to me, her gaze still upon Brother David.
I glanced up at my mother and looked at her with defiance. She met my eyes with a glare and squeezed my hand slightly hard.
Sighing silently to myself, I let go as she did and made my way down between the pews, past Brother David and my mother and then past my relatives. Most of the women were in black and were crying their eyes out, holding over-used handkerchiefs in one hand or the other.
My Aunt Gladys was past a line of relatives wishing to pay respect to Uncle Rich. She accepted condolences from them after they paid their respects to Uncle Rich.
The sight of Uncle Rich was quite interesting. He was laid out flat in the coffin, his hands resting on his chest. His golden wedding band was noticeable because his bony hands were so white. When I glanced at him, lying there, I expected it to look morbid and depressing. Sort of like those horror comics I read. But, it wasn’t like that at all, really. His greyish hair was stylised and his profound chin was almost jutting out of the casket. His head was tipped upward, as if he was glancing upwards. His eyes were, respectively, closed. It was hard for me to see him properly, for my eyes barely made it over the open rim of the casket. Also, the casket was upon the stone altar of the Church. I forced myself to bow my head in respect and then walked past Uncle Rich’s dead corpse. The only thing I regretted was that Uncle Rich was not able to attend my birthday party after the Funeral. It would have been fun, having a dead person at your birthday party.
So far, that's all I got. No disrespect to churches, dead people and priests meant. All in good fun!
Last edited:
