Work Text:
The Wake of Night
She walked into the building looking at her feet and the deep red carpet underneath. Her Mary Jane’s were abnormally shiny as she was dragging her feet; she was wearing the fluffy black dress that she hated so much. Her dark copper hair was parted down the middle, and her bangs hung just above her eyes. She was holding her mother’s cool hand looking at the black nail polish. Her mother was also wearing all black, for that matter. Everyone was wearing black. Black was a nice color, but gazing from the eye level at everyone else’s belly, looking around in this crowd gave the impression of midnight.
“Emma,” her mother whispered in a commanding tone, “Stop slouching and pick up your little feet.”
“Ok, Mommy.” She could still hear the horns honking outside and the bustle of the city. She lived in New York City for as long as she could remember, probably all her life for all she knew.
“Daddy,” she looked to her other side, “your tie is tucked into your jacket pocket.”
“Oh,” he replied, looking down to his chest, “thanks honey.”
They walked through a doorway, and we were each handed a lit candle. Then we sat down with a lot of other people in black. A person in the front was standing next to a long, wood box. He kept talking about grandpa, blah blah blah “passed away”.
“Mommy, why are they talking about grandpa? I didn’t know that he was going on vacation.”
“He passed away, dear, he didn’t go on vacation.”
“What do you mean, passed away?” she questioned. “I thought that he went on a vacation. “Where did he go?”
“Darling, he died.” She said softly.
“What? So, he’s gone, forever?”
“I’m sorry, yes.”
Her eyes went wide as a wave of realization crashed down upon her. She would never again be able to sit awake as he told her stories; he always made his job as a plumber sound like the most interesting job in the world. They wouldn’t go out for ice cream, and she would never be able to sit in his warm lap as they read a book in his old leather chair. She would never again smell her grandpa’s signature scent.
Her chocolate colored eyes began to shimmer and her tears began to fall. Her grandpa was gone, and she would never have him back. She dashed forward escaping her mother’s hand, with her hair flapping behind her. Aiming directly toward the long dark box at the front of the room, she skidded to a halt seeing the pale face of her gramps; he almost appeared to be sleeping. Everything around her faded away as she stared at him for the last time. Impossibly still, until his eyes flicked open revealing orbs obscured with bloody clouds. Its head turned to look at her as she released a piercing scream.