The Lottery Funeral

(word count: 3774)

The Lottery Funeral



Young Sarah stood in the doorway of the small reception room, feeling a little apprehensive about entering. She wore her black pleated dress, knee-high white socks, her best black leather shoes and a crisp, white, starched long-sleeved shirt. Her long mane of ash blonde hair was tied back in a single pony-tail.

Different people were milling about the room in small clusters, some holding cups of tea, others balancing a cup of soft drink and a small plate of food. All were chatting, and although Sarah couldn’t hear the different conversations going on, their manner reminded her of the parents chatting by the school building at the end of the day whilst they waited for their children. Most of the guests she recognized. Bill and Fay who lived opposite her grandparents’ house, Aunty Shirley and Uncle Jay who had a few car dealerships and had come down from the country for the occasion, some of her cousins, and even the school crossing lady who always made Sarah run to the crossing even though she was still quite far away from it and despite the waiting cars. Sarah always wished the crossing lady wouldn’t do that.

The room was ornately decorated with a carpet of swirling red and orange, and ancient Grecian columns stood in each corner with a potted plant in a golden coloured metal vase on top of each one.

She eyed the large capsule in the centre of the room. It lay on a red gum table that was covered with a white silk sheet. Her grandfather loved fishing and had a name for himself on the banks of the Murray River around the town of Echuca. That river forms the boarder of Victoria and New South Wales and is one of Australia’s longest. Much of it is lined with beautiful towers of red gum trees that smell like the pheromones of Mother Nature herself. He chose that red gum table.

It was a very simple design, the capsule, made of a silvery composite with no hard edges. A groove ran along its middle, lengthwise, and disappeared around the bends at each end. Two wooden stands cradled the capsule at either end, preventing it from rolling off the draped table. It almost gleamed there in the centre of the room and reminded Sarah of something from the ancient Star Trek television shows. She had never been to a seventieth birthday event before, and although she was only nine years old, her mother had decided she should attend. It was, after all, her grandfather’s seventieth birthday.

“It’s okay, honey,” her mother said softly from behind, gently placing a hand on each of her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. Let’s go inside and get some cake.” Her mother ever so gingerly nudged her daughter forward, but Sarah did not move and instead looked up at her mother.
“Is that thing for Grandpa?”
“Yes, honey. That’s the thing I told you about. The resting vessel.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Is he inside it now?”
“No, honey,” her mother laughed reassuringly. “He’s over there, talking to Nana Pat.” Sarah’s mother pointed to the left side of the room where a long table was laid out with various finger foods, sandwiches, soft drinks and pots of tea and coffee. In front of it several guests were milling around, including Sarah’s grandparents who seemed to be having a nice conversation, just the two of them. “Let’s go say hello,” Sarah’s mother whispered.

As they approached her grandparents, Sarah noticed her grandfather was drinking from a beautifully crafted crystal glass. Her grandmother was too, and they clanged glasses together and had a good laugh. Grandpa must’ve told one of his jokes, Sarah thought. He was a funny man, and she could recall countless times when she literally could not stop laughing, just because of a silly gesture he made with his face or a funny line he said to his wife to get an innocent raise out of her (“Patricia, you’re the best looking woman named Patricia in this house, by golly I swear it’s true”). Now it seemed he’d said something funny and Sarah’s grandmother was laughing aloud.

She arrived in front of her grandparents, mother behind her. “Well, look who’s here!” Nana Pat exclaimed in delight. She bent down and gave her granddaughter a kiss on the forehead. “And so pretty. Look at that dress.”
“Hello Nana Pat.” She turned to her grandfather.
“How’s my favourite granddaughter?” he gleamed.
Sarah cracked a little smile. “I’m you’re only granddaughter, silly.”
“And my favourite one at that,” said the old man as he bent to meet her face to face, kissing her on the forehead too.
“Happy Birthday, Grandpa.”
The old man lost his smile for the briefest of moments, but Sarah saw it. He looked up at Sarah’s mother as he said to his granddaughter, “I thought you would be in school today,” before looking back to Sarah again, smiling gently. Sarah saw that, too.
“Mummy said I should come to your party.”
“She’s nine years old, dad,” Sarah’s mother whispered. “I’m sure one day off school isn’t going to ruin her education.”
“Why are you whispering?” the old man whispered back conspiratorially. “Are her teachers here too?” He looked around the room in mock suspicion. This got a giggle out of Sarah. “You go hide over there, near that little table. The one with all the chocolate cake on it, and I’ll watch out for those pesky teachers.”
“Okay, Grandpa,” Sarah said and she danced away to the other side of the room to eat some cake.
The old man straightened up, his face hardened. To his daughter he said, “I told you I didn’t want her here. She’s too young.”
“Now Ed,” the grandmother said.
“Now Ed nothing. She’s only nine years old.”
Sarah’s mother said, “Dad, she’s old enough. It’s the law.” Turning to her mother she said, “Mum, isn’t it the law?”
“I think so, dear.”
“This is no place for a nine year old,” the old man interjected.
“Dad, she doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he barked through gritted teeth so the guests couldn’t hear.

Just then a white-robed man approached. He was wearing peculiar glasses and a little rubber peg in his nose. Nana Pat had a private chuckle to herself as he reminded her of a synchronized swimmer without the swimming suit.
“Hello, Father Doctor,” the old woman said.
“Hello Pat,” said the priest-doctor. “How is everyone?”
“Oh, just fine, just fine,” the old woman answered as she dabbed a tissue on the corner of her lips.
“Hello Susan,” he said to Sarah’s mother. Turning to the old man, he said, “Edward, it’s time for you to take the last rites. Are you ready?”
The old man rubbed his hands together. “My last rites? I’d rather take my first left, straight through that door and out of here.”
“Now Ed,” the old woman said softly.
“Ok, Father,” said the old man. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

In a small darkened room at the rear of the main room, the old man and the priest-doctor kneeled on thick burgundy cushions. Between them was a tiny table with an assortment of items neatly arranged. One of the items was a thick white candle which the priest-doctor lit with a lighter. The old man looked at the priest-doctor, who now had the glow of the flickering candle flame licking his face.

“Do you have anything to confess, Edward?”
“I confess I’m starting to get the heebie-jeebies.”
The priest-doctor smiled kindly. “Ed, now is the time.”
The old man thought for a moment. Then he started, “Ok, Father. I confess I don’t believe in this damn ritual.”
The priest-doctor’s head jerked back a little. “Ed, we’ve been over this before.”
“I know, I know.”
“It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. But it’s perfectly unnecessary.”
“How do you know that?” the old man asked.
“For it is written.”
“For it is written?” the old man repeated. “It used to be written that the earth was flat. It used to be written that Jesus was the son of God.”
The priest-doctor reached across and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Ed, my dear friend, nothing is constant. We are always growing, always learning, always evolving.”
“Yes I know,” the old man said a bit impatiently. “But back then, those people thought what they believed in was true.” He paused. “How do we know this ritual is true? How can we be sure?”
“Edward, this ritual is for the good of your family, your daughter and granddaughter. It is for the good of the entire human race. It is a ritual we became committed to from the moment of our birth. It’s for the preservation of the balance we are aiming to achieve with the environment and…” The priest-doctor suddenly jerked his arm away from the old man as if the old man had bitten him.
Startled, the old man said, “Father, are you ok?”
The priest-doctor turned is arm over and examined the loose white sleeve of his robe. A scorch mark could be seen. Rubbing his arm he said, “Sorry to frighten you, Ed. I just got too close to the candle.” He collected himself and continued. “Anyway, Edward, it’s time. And it’s a time to celebrate.”
“Celebrate?” The old man eyed the priest-doctor as if he were an intrusive salesmen knocking on the front door on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
“Yes, Ed. It’s a time to celebrate. You won The Lottery and hence earn your part in the history of the restoration of the planet. The sacrifice you are making today will be written in the history books and studied by future generations. You will be one of the heroes of the new dawn.” The priest-doctor paused. Gently, he added, “And besides, it’s your seventieth birthday.”
The old man muttered, “Yeah, well I wouldn’t mind a seventy-first birthday not alone. Okay, let’s get on with it.”
“Ok, Edward. There’s a good man. Now, do you have anything to confess?”
The old man had his confession ready as part of his preparation for the day’s event. “Yes, Father Doctor. I confess that I believe this ritual to be antiquated, to be cruel, and is a result of the legacy our forefathers left us when they raped this planet for all she’s worth. I confess that I believe man has a right to choose when he dies, not the…”
“Ok, Edward,” the priest-doctor cut in quickly. “Now the Apostles Creed.”
The old man raised his eyes and humphed. “I believe in Light, the almighty, creator of earth and all dimensions. I believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of Light, who descended from the stars to embrace his children, but who was misunderstood, ridiculed and feared by the powers that were, and was crucified and buried. On the third day he rose again and was taken back to the stars by the Ship of Light, and he will come again, when his children are ready to accept him as their space-faring Father.”
“Very good,” said the priest-doctor, relieved that the old man had stuck to the recital. “Now I shall recite the Our Father and then you can change into your robe.”

The priest-doctor emerged from the small room holding a bell. He clanged it twice with a copper rod and the deep acoustic hum silenced everyone. Without instruction, all the guests started to form a large circle around the resting vessel.
“Come and stand by me,” whispered Sarah’s mother.
Sarah clutched at her mother’s side, half hiding behind her. “What’s going on?”
“It’s time to say goodbye to your grandfather. Remember I told you about this part? We all make a circle, and Grandpa will walk around and say goodbye to everyone. He’ll say good bye to us and Nana Pat last.”
“And then what?”
“And then he’ll…”
“Ladies and gentleman, I present to you Mr. Edward Miller,” announced the priest-doctor.
Everyone started clapping as the old man emerged from the small room.
“He looks sad, mummy.”
“Well, goodbyes are always sad. But it’s not really goodbye, is it honey? We know we’ll see Grandpa again, don’t we?”
“See you on the street where old friends meet,” sang Sarah’s grandmother. It was an ancient song that Sarah had heard many times at her grandparents’ house, but she hadn’t understood the true meaning of that line until now.

The old man looked beaten, but managed a smile as he started the circle, shaking hands with old friends, embracing cousins and aunts and uncles. He moved along the circle until he arrived at Sarah. Crouching to meet her face to face, he said, “My sweet Sarah. How you’ve grown. You’re the best granddaughter a man could ever ask for.” He kissed her on the forehead.
“Are you okay, Grandpa?” she asked, seeing his tears.
“I’m fine, my love. I’m just going to miss you.”
“But we’ll see each other again, right?” She looked up to her mother. With slight alarm in her voice she said, “Right mummy? We’ll see him again?”
“Of course honey,” said Sarah’s mother.
The old man stood, hugged his daughter, then moved on to his wife. “Well, Patricia, I figure I’ll being seeing you soon.” The guests giggled.
“Oh Ed!” laughed the old woman as she embraced her husband. “Always the larrikin, right up to the last minute.” The guests agreed.
He looked towards the resting vessel. The priest-doctor was standing beside it, waiting. “I guess it’s time.” He began to move towards the resting vessel and the priest–doctor pushed a button on the small device in his hand. When he did, the grooves in the resting vessel began to separate and it opened up like an oyster. At the same time, the top part of the resting vessel, the lid, shifted colours until it became as transparent as frosted glass. White cushiony silk adorned the interior. From under the red gum table, a small step emerged.

The guests started singing the happy birthdays song. The old man knew it would be the last time he would hear that song. He quickly turned back to Sarah and leant over to say in her ear, “I’m so sorry, my sweet little Sarah. It’s not right. It’s not right.”
Sarah’s mother couldn’t hear what the old man said because of the singing, but she was concerned by the startled look on her daughter’s face. She motioned to the priest-doctor who approached them immediately. “Come on, Edward,” he said to the old man as he took his elbow.
The old man yanked his arm away. “I know the way,” he snapped and continued towards the resting vessel.
And he stopped. He knew what was next. He’d seen recordings of it, even rehearsed it. Yet suddenly, he was filled with a mix of fear and anger and injustice. “This isn’t right.”
“Now come on, Edward,” the priest-doctor pressed.
“Get away from me, you fanatical bastard!”
The priest-doctor motioned to the guests who had been secretly selected as assistants, should the need arise. Three men, friends of Edward, approached. “Come on, old friend,” said one of the men.
“Let’s do this nicely,” said another.
Edward thrashed about as the men tackled him closer to the resting vessel. “Get away from me, you bastards!”
The happy birthday song had met its own early demise. The guests maintained the circle as Edward broke loose from the assistants and bolted for the door. Suddenly the guests near the doorway linked arms. An impenetrable human wall. Edward tried to push through them, but the link was too strong. He looked about the room like a crazed gorilla caught in a cage, searching for an escape.

The three assistants were quickly upon him again and this time dragged him towards the capsule. Edward yelled and thrashed about violently, eventually overpowering them and breaking free.

“Mummy! What’s going on? What are they doing to Grandpa?” Sarah cried.
“It’s okay, honey. Sometimes it’s like this. People get a little scared at the last minute.”
The old man managed to run to his wife and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Patricia, please. We have more years together. I want to see my granddaughter grow up. We have more years, we have more years. Please! It’s not right! It’s not right!” he begged.
“Edward, darling,” she said softly. Leaning closer, she added, “Please, you’re embarrassing me.”
The blood ran from his face. He felt giddy. The three assistants were upon him again, but he didn’t struggle this time. He let them pull him backwards to the capsule, his legs dragging in front of him. He looked to Sarah. Almost windless, he said, “I’m sorry my love. It’s just not right.”

The three assistants half forced, half assisted Edward up the small steps and into the capsule. He lay in it like a coffin, but he wasn’t resting. The priest-doctor pushed the button on his device and the almost-clear lid of the capsule began to close. Edward looked about frantically, but forced himself to stay still. You’re embarrassing me.

The lid closed with a hiss. Sealed. Sarah could just make out the shape of her grandfather through the frosted glass. The guests, led by the priest-doctor, sat cross-legged and began a prayer. Sarah sat too but didn’t join in the prayer, she couldn’t. Her mouth opened but no words would come out.

Her grandfather started pounding on the glass lid. He kicked and kneed it. The thudding could be heard by all. The guests prayed louder and louder to drown out his commotion. But Sarah could still hear him. Open the lid! Open the lid! The guests prayed louder still. Sarah looked around the circle. All of the guests seemed oblivious to the old man, his face pressed up against the glass lid, distorted with panic.

The priest-doctor pushed another button on his device. A white gas began to fall like dry ice from vents in the centre of the ceiling, just above the capsule. Sarah watched it curiously. The gas rolled over the capsule and onto the floor, concentrically flowing towards the seated guests. She tilted her head like a confused puppy as the gas lapped at her feet and over her crossed legs. The pounding and muffled yelling faded as Sara grew sleepy. And closed her eyes.

The priest-doctor pushed another button on his device and the white gas was quickly sucked out of the room from the same vents above the capsule. After a few moments a green light illuminated on his device and he pressed yet another button. The lid of the capsule hissed open. As he removed his goggles and nose plug, the priest-doctor helped the old man from the capsule.

The old man did not speak as he was led towards the door. At the same time six burly men in white tuxedoes entered the room. They walked past the old man without speaking, heads bowed.

Ashen-faced, the old man turned to look at his family and friends for the last time, some of them slumped forward, others had fallen backwards, and some had slumped over each other. They all lay there in the circle. He thought they looked asleep.

In pairs, the tuxedoed men began gingerly lifting one body at a time and taking them through the door at the rear of the hall. The old man’s eyes found his granddaughter, a dark stain on the groin area of her dress. She had wet herself.

“You’ve made a great sacrifice today, Ed,” the priest-doctor said matter-of-factly. “An enormous contribution to the restoration of the world.”

“It’s wrong,” the old man gasped, breathless. “It’s just so wrong.”