Categories > Original > Romance > PS: Sincerely, Me
PS: Sincerely, Me
2 reviewsLove: n: A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness. I...
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Authors Note: I know I have been gone for quite some time, but I have returned with a story. An original, so I hope some of you will still read it if you are still following me.
Prologue
Snow topped roofs dripped against the beating of the early sun. Tiny green buds peeked out of the bare branches of the trees. A girl clad in a school uniform skipped by, her long, sun kissed, ribbon tied, pigtails trailing daintily behind her, to meet her up with her companions at the towns only bus stop. They giggled at the sound of premature chicks in the tall alpine trees.
It was the eve of spring.
For most people it would be a rebirth, a relief from the cold winter months. Most of the people in the small town would be folding their heavy snow jackets and trading them in for sweaters. Most of the people would be out walking their dogs in the vanity of the sun. Most people would be celebrating the rebirth of life in trivial, yet meaningful ways, but for a few people today was not to be a celebration. Today was not a rebirth, rather a death, of a common friend, a coworker, a brother, a son, a lover…
In the distance the church bells rang with low, melancholy tunes. They echoed through the town, reaching the ears of the people celebrating, even the homeless man in the darkest ally way attempting to sturdy his house. But, as the sound reached the congregation of mourners, the bells lingered and traveled down into their chests. Hearts beat heavily as the bells summed up the feelings of all those attending the funeral.
The congregation was small. The men stood with stoic stares at the shiny, black casket covered in an array of flowers while the women buried their faces in tissues to hide their tears. The priest uttered a small prayer and with the hand sign of Trinity the burial ceremony ended and the casket began to lower.
Most of the congregation bowed their heads in respect, a few of the stoic men started to shed silent tears, while a few women erupted into a fit of hysterics, but one person stood emotionless with a single, white, calla lily clasped in both her white gloved hands. Her stance was almost like statue, except for her bistre-shaded eyes following the lowering casket.
She wore a long, black coat that covered a simple black dress that came to about her mid-thigh while black tights covered the rest of her slender legs. Her hair was a long, dark brown mess of natural curls that accented her round, pale face. Her red lipstick lips were pursed tightly together as if she was fighting back an outburst.
As the casket made a low thud and reached the bottom of the grave the girl blinked and her lips separated to take in a breath. Then she returned back to her emotionless stance. A few people of the congregation began to hike down the hill to leave, even the priest started to pack his things, but the girl stood still, as if transfixed.
One by one people began to leave. As the dirt was being placed into the grave, the attendees became smaller and smaller. As a fresh patch of grass was laid over the dirt mound, less than half the congregation had already gone. And as the gravestone was finally placed only the deceased's family and the girl remained.
The young woman, the sister from the deceased’s family eyed the brown-haired girl curiously, but did not question as the family gathered around the grave to say their last goodbyes. The girl who had been transfixed on the single spot of burial looked to the ground to give the family a sense of privacy until they were done. The mother shook from sobs as they walked away while her husband wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. The sister turned to look back at the brown-haired girl with a curious look and they locked eyes. The brown-haired girl gave a little smile, but quickly pursed her lips together again. The sister, satisfied, turned around and the family disappeared down the hill.
Alone, the brown-haired girl walked over to the grave with a gait similar to a crane’s grace. Placing the flower on top of the headstone, she squatted down to read the scripture.
RIP
Eli Jennings Harte
April 26th, 1985-March 11th, 2008
A son, a brother, a friend.
You will be missed.
Her pursed lips finally rested in their natural position as she ran her fingers over the carved letters. As her fingers reached the end of friend a small smile formed on her lips. She sighed, and shook her head.
“They forgot one thing,” she muttered while digging into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small, silver, white-pearl ring and slid it onto her engagement finger. “It was nice to finally meet your family, Love.” A breeze blew across the graveyard, and pinched at her face while blowing her hair away from her face. She took a sharp breath and rested her forehead against the gravestone. As she exhaled, her breath became shaky. She no longer fought back emotions. Tears ran down her porcelain face.
“I told you I would come.”
Prologue
Snow topped roofs dripped against the beating of the early sun. Tiny green buds peeked out of the bare branches of the trees. A girl clad in a school uniform skipped by, her long, sun kissed, ribbon tied, pigtails trailing daintily behind her, to meet her up with her companions at the towns only bus stop. They giggled at the sound of premature chicks in the tall alpine trees.
It was the eve of spring.
For most people it would be a rebirth, a relief from the cold winter months. Most of the people in the small town would be folding their heavy snow jackets and trading them in for sweaters. Most of the people would be out walking their dogs in the vanity of the sun. Most people would be celebrating the rebirth of life in trivial, yet meaningful ways, but for a few people today was not to be a celebration. Today was not a rebirth, rather a death, of a common friend, a coworker, a brother, a son, a lover…
In the distance the church bells rang with low, melancholy tunes. They echoed through the town, reaching the ears of the people celebrating, even the homeless man in the darkest ally way attempting to sturdy his house. But, as the sound reached the congregation of mourners, the bells lingered and traveled down into their chests. Hearts beat heavily as the bells summed up the feelings of all those attending the funeral.
The congregation was small. The men stood with stoic stares at the shiny, black casket covered in an array of flowers while the women buried their faces in tissues to hide their tears. The priest uttered a small prayer and with the hand sign of Trinity the burial ceremony ended and the casket began to lower.
Most of the congregation bowed their heads in respect, a few of the stoic men started to shed silent tears, while a few women erupted into a fit of hysterics, but one person stood emotionless with a single, white, calla lily clasped in both her white gloved hands. Her stance was almost like statue, except for her bistre-shaded eyes following the lowering casket.
She wore a long, black coat that covered a simple black dress that came to about her mid-thigh while black tights covered the rest of her slender legs. Her hair was a long, dark brown mess of natural curls that accented her round, pale face. Her red lipstick lips were pursed tightly together as if she was fighting back an outburst.
As the casket made a low thud and reached the bottom of the grave the girl blinked and her lips separated to take in a breath. Then she returned back to her emotionless stance. A few people of the congregation began to hike down the hill to leave, even the priest started to pack his things, but the girl stood still, as if transfixed.
One by one people began to leave. As the dirt was being placed into the grave, the attendees became smaller and smaller. As a fresh patch of grass was laid over the dirt mound, less than half the congregation had already gone. And as the gravestone was finally placed only the deceased's family and the girl remained.
The young woman, the sister from the deceased’s family eyed the brown-haired girl curiously, but did not question as the family gathered around the grave to say their last goodbyes. The girl who had been transfixed on the single spot of burial looked to the ground to give the family a sense of privacy until they were done. The mother shook from sobs as they walked away while her husband wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. The sister turned to look back at the brown-haired girl with a curious look and they locked eyes. The brown-haired girl gave a little smile, but quickly pursed her lips together again. The sister, satisfied, turned around and the family disappeared down the hill.
Alone, the brown-haired girl walked over to the grave with a gait similar to a crane’s grace. Placing the flower on top of the headstone, she squatted down to read the scripture.
RIP
Eli Jennings Harte
April 26th, 1985-March 11th, 2008
A son, a brother, a friend.
You will be missed.
Her pursed lips finally rested in their natural position as she ran her fingers over the carved letters. As her fingers reached the end of friend a small smile formed on her lips. She sighed, and shook her head.
“They forgot one thing,” she muttered while digging into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small, silver, white-pearl ring and slid it onto her engagement finger. “It was nice to finally meet your family, Love.” A breeze blew across the graveyard, and pinched at her face while blowing her hair away from her face. She took a sharp breath and rested her forehead against the gravestone. As she exhaled, her breath became shaky. She no longer fought back emotions. Tears ran down her porcelain face.
“I told you I would come.”
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