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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Death · #2161919
What happens when you wake up at your own funeral?
         What’s that smell? It smells sweet, flowers? Why are there flowers?
I opened my eyes to see a beautiful chandelier hanging several feet above me. It's complicated metal framework with lights scattered about coming together in a beautiful masterpiece. The ceiling it was connected to is beautifully arched with beams strategically placed.
         Wait, why am I laying down? I sat up and looked around, am I in a church? They’re pews on either side of me. I slowly stood up feeling very confused, how did I get here? Last thing I remember was locking the doors before I went to sleep.
         There were flowers, everywhere. At both ends of every pew and all along the walls, all different kinds. That's when I noticed it, at the front of the room there’s at least a dozen patches of lilacs. Those are my favorite flowers, wonder why they’re there.
         The sound of doors banging open behind me had me practically jumping out of my skin. Two guys came in pushing a… casket. This is a funeral, my anxiety had started to rise as the men walked past me. Then my mom walked in, she looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were all puffy and there was such sadness and agony clearly written all over her face. No no why is she crying.
         “Mom what’s wrong? What's going on? What happened?” I tried to say but no sound came out. She started to slowly walk down the aisle and I was too stunned to move. I watched her as she walked up to the casket, nodding at the men when they were finished. The casket was now in the middle of the flowers.
         It was getting hard to breathe now, I’m on the verge of a full blown panic attack. Mom is standing over the casket tears in her eyes when Dad walked in. He walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. She started crying into his chest, he turned and I saw the tears start falling down his face. I have never seen him cry, NEVER and it broke my heart. What was causing them so much pain?
Dad, holding my bawling mother, walked out of the room. I watched them leave with a heavy heart. I wanted to reach out to them, but in my heart I knew I wouldn’t be able to. I turned to stare at the casket, once again alone.
         It took awhile but I finally got the courage to walk up to it. It was still closed and even though I didn’t want to look inside, I felt that I needed to. Slowly I reached out and gripped the edge of the lid. Even slower I opened it, keeping my eyes shut. I stood there with heavy breaths and my eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t want to see what I know is there.
         I opened my eyes to see my own sleeping face staring back at me. I’m dead. Finally a sob was forced out of my mouth, the first sound I had made since waking. I sat in front of my corpse and cried, heart wrenching sobs. I cried for my parents, my siblings, my friends. I cried for the life I’d never get to live.
         I sat on the floor by my casket, by my dead lifeless body until the start of the funeral. I was numb, seeing but not seeing, feeling but not feeling. There were no tears left to cry. I watched as my loved ones one by one came in, sadness on their face.
Then he came in, he was different than all the rest, his sadness was fake. He seemed almost pleased I was dead, but why? I searched my brain for his name. Who is he? It clicked, he’s my dad’s boss. He’s the reason I’m dead, he killed me.
I remember it all now, I had been locking up when he knocked on my door. I was house sitting for my parents and he had told me Dad left something behind for him. Of course I believed him, why wouldn’t I? I had my back to him when he attacked. He put an arm around my neck and a gun to my head.
         “I’ve been watching you for awhile, such a pretty girl you’ve grown up to be.” I can still smell the liquor on his breath, he reeked of the stuff. I knew where this was going to go so I had whipped my head back as hard as I could and he stumbled back. Now being free I ran for the door. I had just gotten it open when he shot me in the back three times. The pain was indescribable and I felt my life draining with each breath. He had shut and locked the door when he left. His car squealing away was the last thing I heard before I took my last pain filled breath and floated into the darkness.
         By him being here it’s obvious they don’t know he’s my killer. Anger welled up in me as I watched him give his condolences to my parents. At Least now I know why he looked so smug, he thinks he got away with it. When he started to walk away I got up to follow him.
         I watched him throughout the entire funeral, my heart breaking with every kind word spoken, with every tear that fell. At the same time the anger and hatred grew. This man took my from my family, my friends, my life and I won’t let him get away with it.
         And when he got home that night, he wasn’t the only one in the house.
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