literature

The Last Moments of Aaron Cren

Deviation Actions

LittleMissWriter7's avatar
Published:
293 Views

Literature Text

A small group of people, clad in black, stand before the door. 

"Are you sure you can do this, Madalyn?" the young man asks.

A sniff from my - the old woman, wispy grey hair in a bun. "Of course I can, he is - was my husband." 

"Is everybody ready?" a worn-out woman asks, holding a baby wrapped in a dark blanket. 

"Yes, yes, Cathy, let's get this over with." Madalyn grumbles.

I drift behind them, sending a nostalgic look around the old house. It's soon to be sold, my family to move into a newer home in the suburbs. It's full of memories, reminders of - him. Maybe that's why they're moving in the first place. 

The bell rings, the merry tune at odds with the melancholy atmosphere. The hearse has arrived. My - no, the family carefully set various flowers in the car, next to the coffin. They were adamant that they wanted to do this, even though they could barely look at the coffin. 

"He - he always loved flowers." Madalyn sadly states. 

"Lilies, especially." the young man says fondly. 

"Yes, lilies. He always loved lilies. He used to buy seeds and plant them. He was always proudest of the lilies he grew." Madalyn laughed bitterly. "Too bad he'll never get to see them now." 

"Mother, he's in a better place. I'm sure he'll have all the lilies he wants now." Cathy says. 

All the lilies he wants, my foot, I think bitterly. 

The family file into matching cars following the trail of the hearse. I would have preferred walking, not being stuffed into these sad, sad, cars and sitting in silence while time passes and - he doesn't get any less dead. The ride is blissfully short. 

When they came out of the cars, the first thing I noticed was black. Black, black, black. A feeling of mourning permeates the air. I hated it from when they first stepped out of the cars. I don't understand why people at a funeral have to be so... depressing. When we die, we just go away. We're not hurt, we're not suffering - so why is it such a sad thing? 

The event passes in a haze. I can't focus on anything but the chanting of dead, dead, dead, in my head. People stand, people talk, people breathe and sneeze and cough. I didn't come here to cry, yet here I am, weeping. No one notices. 

Madalyn comes up to the front to say her words. 

"Hello, my name is Madalyn Cren, you may know me as Aaron Cren's wife -" 

I am not sad for the death. No, not at all, although the loss of human life is always sad. 

"- he was a wonderful man -" 

I am sad for the loved ones that were left behind. 

"- and, wherever he is, I hope he knows that I love him." 

After that last sentence, I know I won't stay much longer. My head snaps up, and I find myself choking out soundless words. 

"I love you too Madalyn." 

I slowly fade out of existence. 
So, this was another work for the writing battle for LaChicaRara! The prompt was 'Write about a funeral from the dead person's viewpoint'. This was a little hard to write, and I had to do a lot of research, but I'm pretty satisfied with the end result. 

Also, if you were wondering, Aaron (the person whose viewpoint I'm writing about) uses 'he' and 'him' and 'the family' to try to give himself a kind of closure and distance himself from his family and his own death. 
© 2017 - 2024 LittleMissWriter7
Comments4
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
LaChicaRara's avatar
Oh, wow, this was a great, great use of the prompt!! I was really hooked by this story! Now's my turn! (I'm really loving this battle thing, aren't you?)