Lady In Red

What am I doing here?1

It’s mid-September and I find myself at a graveyard. It looks dusty and unkept. Leaves float around midair, looking lost. Crabgrass mingles with my feet. As I move along, I realize that the names adorning the headstones hold no recognition. Is my memory really that bad? I’m only fourteen.2

The last time I remember being at a cemetery was when my grandmother died. I was nine years old and the only family member in attendance who didn’t shed a single tear at her service. Her name was Mary Ann. She played Yahtzee. Toyed around with a handheld solitaire game that I inherited after she passed away. 3

Our family would visit every month or so. A family gathering at the old blue picnic table happened at Thanksgiving and Christmas; the time the infamous “shrimp tail eating” incident occurred. Poor grandma, she never lived that down. Most of all though, I remember Grandma leaning on me for support as soon as we walked out of that apartment on Gage Boulevard. As her clocked ticked closer to a dead battery, a wheelchair was her aid. She died of breast cancer. Mary Ann was sixty-nine.4

I only knew her for four years before she died. I was so young, too. Was I supposed to know that this acquaintance was someone I should’ve held close to my heart? Is it normal to let someone you merely shook hands with into your life so easily? I didn’t know the answers to these questions and never had the nerve to ask them so bluntly to cure my curiosity. Is crying at a funeral mandatory? Maybe it is. Maybe crying at a moment of hurt would wash away the regret a person would feel later. The moment it becomes too late to do anything.5

The regret I feel now.6

I didn’t cry. I didn’t visit her grave, either. There is no grave. My grandma was cremated. I spoke one word during the service. I wasn’t involved in spreading her ashes. Today, they’re kept in a container on the family room floor.7

This isn’t my grandmother’s story, though. I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing here. The dim fog that blankets the blue sky seems to cloud my vision. Maybe I should keep walking. 8

There’s a tombstone with roses. It reads “Jerry Nelson: Beloved husband, 1972-2003” I can’t help but stare at the numbers. As the water builds, I stride past. Another one stands tall with a toy car sitting beside the marble. I feel like running as fast as I can in the other direction, but my feet continue to trudge forward.9

That’s when I see him: the man in the suit. He’s clutching a bible, keeping it close to his chest. His eyes peer impatiently at the wristwatch he wears. The man looks around, his foot tapping in his loafers. The man is obviously waiting for something and by the looks of it, is about to run out of his patience. Then, I see the casket that lies beside him. I don’t know how I missed it before. It’s huge, a huge oak one.10

A minute too late, the suited man storms off and heads into the church nearby. I guess the attendees forgot about the event. It seems a little odd to me. Out of curiosity, I make my way to the wooden box.11

My feet refuse move when only a few feet separate the casket and myself. It’s an invasion of privacy yells my brain. You shouldn’t be here. Every bone in my body is telling me otherwise. Frozen is how I stay for quite some time. Minutes pass slowly, dissipating in the wind. 12

At long last, my nerves allow me to move again. The casket comes into clearer view. The lid is transparent, displaying the body to all who pass. It’s a woman. Not even a woman. Barely a lady. She’s a girl. A girl in her early teens. Her body is wrapped in the crimson fabric of a summertime dress. Odd attire, I can’t help but notice. The girl has porcelain skin, that of like a doll’s. She’s been dead for quite some time. It isn’t until my eyes travel up her deceased form that I realize: 13

She has my face.14

My throat closes up. I can’t breathe. A choking sensation burns my lungs. Sweat runs down my face, wetting my skin. It isn’t supposed to end this way. As I lay there defenseless in my sheets, I realize, for the very first time,15

I cry at a funeral.

Author notes

This is a personal thing, based off a nightmare I had every night when I was 12-14 years old.

Enjoy, if you can. Or do whatever you please.

*Frozen Angel*

A contest entry

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Comments

1 - 11 of 11

  • FragileHope
    1 day ago
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    Edit | Reply
    That must have been a horrible nightmare to have had. I love how it builds up, then ends with:

    'I cry at a funeral'

    Just amazing.


  • xxxstarryeyesxxx
    March 13
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    Edit | Reply
    this is really good i like how the story builds up its a great piece to read i thinks it is intresting i really like reading it and i like how it was one of ur personal dreams that you shared on here


  • Desolate Blue
    February 20

    Edit | Reply
    Wow, this was really great! I had a feeling that she was dead when I first started reading it, then when she sees her own face and realizes she is you know for sure. This was really good. I like how you talked about not crying at her grandmother's funeral, then when she sees herself in the casket she cries. Thanks for entering, this was beautiful.


  • XxShadow-KissedXx
    July 6, 2009
    Edit | Reply
    Man this is good. It was a bit plain and confusing at the start but as soon as she looked at the cast and wittnessed her own fruneral was such a good idea. Fantastic and i hope youy add a longer or even make it into a novel.

    Well done and good luck in my contest!!!


  • Cinderella.
    June 21, 2009
    Edit | Reply

    Great

    Omg, every story in my contest is great.


  • EmotionalxChick
    June 7, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    Nice write. This is really good. I like the fact that it's true. Very great right. Thanks for entering my contest


  • WhisperWhitewolf
    June 4, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    This has amazing imagery. I find this to be very gripping. I understand this well, too, making it a great read. Thank you for entering my contest.

    Splendid job, continue writing,
    RayneFall


  • Classic Violette
    May 18, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    Great use of imagery and description. Needs a little editing but your story writing skills show great promise! Well done.

  • emmalynlorraine
    May 17, 2009

    Edit | Reply
    This was actually worth sitting down and reading.
    I like the imagery and the details you put into this.
    It carries a lot of emotion.
    Some grammar and spelling but that can be fixed.

    Great job! (:


  • May-Kingston silver member
    May 17, 2009
    Edit | Reply
    P3: When you say, "the only family member in attendance that didn’t shed a single tear," you should say "who" instead of "that."

    Other than this small error, this story was great. It was, in fact, very believable. It had a perfect flow and the ending was great. This is even better than I had hoped for. Thank you for entering! I love it.


    • Frozen Angel
      May 17, 2009
      Edit | Reply
      Okay, I've fixed that word. I tried reading over it last night (actually it was one o'clock in the morning--today, but you get the point) when I orginally wrote it trying to scope out errors. Then again, it was late, so my brain wasn't exactly quick to point out mistakes.

      Thanks for the help,

      *Frozen Angel*

1 - 11 of 11