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syringa-writes · 2 years

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Life is such a fragile thing.

One moment we are born into a world of brilliant lights and crowded noises. The insistent hum of life is loud and cumbersome. We ride out each moment giving no thought to the inevitable end. There is so much taken for granted. Time flies by and yet we give it little thought. It goes by day by day with the simple tick tick ticking of the clock. Time.

Time is nothing but fleeting.

No matter how quick you are to match its pace, in the end, we all lose to its harsh race. It stops us where we stand, our hearts giving a final desperate pump, the breath that holds us passes through our lips, and our eyes- the very windows of the soul- fade to nothingness.

Death.

Death awaits us all. It does not matter to her who we were or what we were or where we came from. In the end, we all reach our end and she would be standing there, waiting. A ghostly figure-swathed in darkness, her embrace so cold and quick, ready to lay us down under a bed of roses and earthy soil. Death came to everyone. She stayed her course, escorting souls from life into a world unknown.

The innocent and the guilty. The dumb and the wise. The rich or the helpless.

Death comes to them all.

In all the hustle and bustle of a busy life. Death waited patiently and quietly. She came with arms open wide. She came quickly.

she always came...

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The skies were gathered with heavy clouds threatening to release the promised forthcoming of rain. Thunder rolled somewhere off in the distant high country as if proclaiming a long awaited arrival.

It couldn't get more dramatic than that. It was the sort of beginning every sad movie began with. A crowd of solemn people gathering together in the quiet sacred ground where the dead and living come together one last time before parting ways forever. You found the irony of it all almost laughable if it wasn't for the fact this was a funeral in behalf of someone close to you. Feeling the soft touch of cold, you raised your hand to your forehead and felt the wet touch of rain.

Ah, and so it begins. Normally the rain would have been a welcome sight, but not today.

It seemed even the heavens were weeping at this very moment. Somehow that only seemed to make the grief weigh heavier in your chest. clutching the center of your black bodice, you followed the long chain of people- all dressed in black towards a far distant hill. The air was heavy and thick with moisture. Despite the summer heat, you felt cold.

Mother.

At what point did this seem so deserving for one so young? Hardly the age of an adult and the very mentor who brought you into this world had been taken from you. No doctor, no seer, no one could have prepared you for the tragedy that struck your family.

Why was it the angels always first to die?

What made God so eager to rip away someone so precious in a time when you needed her most of all?

Life was a sick joke.

A firm hand grasped your shoulder, pulling you out of the deepening coils of angry thoughts. Raising your eyes to meet the owner of the hand that touched you, you were met with the solemn gaze of two familiar green eyes.

"Ethan..." you whispered softly and felt the rain come down heavier now. The young man's eyes softened as he removed his hand from your shoulder carefully observing you as if this were the first time you'd met. His dark hair barely covered those bright mesmerizing eyes. Standing at six feet tall and with a lean body taut with muscle from years of hard work and training, Ethan looked almost like some Hollywood star you'd see in movie scenes similar to where they stood now.

But this wasn't a movie. No matter how much you wanted to, this wasn't something you could stop. But oh how much you wish you could.

"Come on Y/N. The rain is only about to get worse. Where is your umbrella?" Ethan's baritone voice rang gentle chords in your ears. Despite the calm controlled temper in his voice, his eyes betrayed the heavy grief you both shared. Looking around, you took notice of the canopies of dark umbrellas beginning to rise over the heads of what seemed like hundreds of people. You could hear the soft pitter-patter of rain, your hair already beginning to dampen with the rainfall.

Ethan raised his umbrella to protect you and himself from the oncoming storm and with his other arm entangled it with your own urging you forward. "We don't want to be the last ones to say goodbye Y/N. Your mother would want us to be there." he gave you another tight smile. You could tell he was struggling to keep himself together. No one knew Ethan the way you did. His calm demeanor was all he had to keep the impending sadness at bay. He didn't cry in front of anyone. Not even you. All you could do is give a glance to the young man and wonder in silence. How could he do it? How could he stand there so tall and strong and seemingly unmoved by all of this? Sure, you weren't really siblings. But he was the closest to a brother you had. He was the next closest thing to protect what remained of your small family. The rain pelted down upon the umbrella creating an incessant sound of tapping. It was almost rhythmic in time as Ethan guided you up the hill, passing by weathered tombstones that marked the age of the ever-growing cemetery. Large statues of weeping angels stretched across the green field like stony sentinels guarding the dead while they slumbered in their earthy graves. Soon another one would be placed to guard yet another sleeping angel.

Mother would finally have her rest.

Reaching the top of the hill, at last, you could see the freshly dug gravesite with people already gathered around the dark pit. You could feel the sharp sting of tears gathering behind your eyes yet you forced yourself to keep your composure. Everything you held at bay depended on it. You felt Ethan's arm slip away from your own only to wrap around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. "Here she comes," he whispered softly in your ear. You turned your head to see the pallbearers slowly approaching the hillside and it felt as though your heart had turned to stone, weighing heavily in your chest. It was hard to believe that inside that polished wooden box lay the sweetest most beautiful angel you had ever known. You could feel the muscles in your neck tighten. You recognized them all. The pallbearers were no strangers to you. And while none of them were really of any direct relation to you, they were all people you grew up with and knew well. Perhaps your family really wasn't all that small after all.

You recognized one of the older men approaching, his silvery hair flat against his head from the rainfall, his clothes wet from the water stuck to his body. For being the ripe old age of sixty-seven, George Dallas was a man of great stature and strength. His body would have put most men younger than him to shame. His dark eyes met yours for only a brief moment and the hard look he had softened if only for that moment.

He missed her too.

Looking around, you felt a small swelling of comfort fill a small part of the empty void in your chest. The people that mattered most to you had come to pay their respects. It was strange to find everyone dressed in black. It was bizarre to see the sadness in the soles of their eyes instead of the usual spark of thrill. They appeared just as empty as you felt.

The rest of the funeral was a blur. You watched the pallbearers carry your mother's simple casket of polished wood to the gravesite where a local town priest stood awaiting them. You couldn't recall most of what the old preacher had said. You recognized a few bible verses that only seemed to repeat a heavy mantra in your head.

'As dust we are and dust shall we return.'

Comfort fled from you. Even in the words of a man of God, you felt no warmth to save you from the cold desolate embrace of reality. Life was as short and brief as when it first began. What was the point? It was a question often asked and given little answer for. Ethan gently nudged you in the side, indicating for you to stand. Arising from your stupor of clouded thoughts, you carefully walked towards the casket. Draped over the top of your mother’s box was a colorful elaborate spread that represented the sort of woman she had been in life; a sweet vibrant woman with so much to offer the world.

You stretched out your hand to gingerly touch the smooth surface of the coffin. The wood was cool against your skin, small pools of water forming around your fingertips. ‘This wasn’t what we planned mother,’ You closed your eyes. This wasn’t at all what you had expected. Your hands curled into fists, the sharp jab in your heart throbbing more than ever.

“Wait for me.” You whispered as you slowly stood, placing a single rose upon the casket.

Life was a sick game. No matter how well prepared you are, in the end things never go as expected. It was full of disappointments. Pain.

Losing her was the worst pain of all.

The remainder of the funeral went by like that of a slow nightmare. Watching as people arose, one by one setting their roses upon you’re mothers enclosed casket, you carefully observed each one of them. Some seemed to mutter something, others gave the casket a tender pat before moving away. Finally you caught sight of Ethan as he made his way to your mother, placing his rose with the others. He didn’t move away like the others before him had. You could see his lips moving a hand reaching into his coat and seemed to pull something out before setting it on top of the closed casket and after one last pause, he pulled away walking away from the grave. He turned his head to you, your eyes meeting for the second time that afternoon. This time, the vibrant color in hiss eyes was gone; faded into a misty sleek shade of grief. The brief glimpse of a pain he hardly gave precedence. It made your heart ache for him.

He gave you a stiff smile and walked to you, stretching out his hand for you. With the empty void consuming you once more, you gently set your hand in his and began the slow descent down the hill; leaving your mother for the last time along with all the hopes and dreams to be buried with her.

#my writing #writing inspiration #horror #romance #reader insert

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