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A story about a thirteen year old boy who just wants his life to make sense and break free the bonds of his Christian town and strict mother.
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at the town church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window.
(to be continued...)
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at the town church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window.
(to be continued...)
2/82
(part 2)
We were on the main road that led to the church. Dunsville was a small town with only one main street, the other side roads led to some cottages and houses further south.
It was a boring sunny day, the kind of day I could enjoy my birthday on. I know it was selfish of me to think this way, but it was hardly anyone’s fault that the two days would clash together. I just did not like the idea of seeing a dead body anytime soon. Yeah, I’m sure it sounds cool, but once you actually see one, you start feeling sad for some reason. The shock of it is almost unbearable.
And that leads to the church. As we parked in the front, my mother checked her makeup within the rear-view mirror. She was not fooling me. The only reason she came to the funeral was to see Brother David, a religious man of the Church. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened the car door and stepped out into the sunlight. As I did, the itchiness increased. The heat made me irritated. I almost wanted to yank the clothes from my body, but I knew my mother would not exactly approve of that.
The church doors were open and I and my mother wandered in. I felt slightly less hot now for the church was an old and airy place.
I gasped up in awe, as I kept on doing every Sunday we came to church. I still could not get over the largeness of the building. It looked so hollow upon the inside.
(to be continued...)
We were on the main road that led to the church. Dunsville was a small town with only one main street, the other side roads led to some cottages and houses further south.
It was a boring sunny day, the kind of day I could enjoy my birthday on. I know it was selfish of me to think this way, but it was hardly anyone’s fault that the two days would clash together. I just did not like the idea of seeing a dead body anytime soon. Yeah, I’m sure it sounds cool, but once you actually see one, you start feeling sad for some reason. The shock of it is almost unbearable.
And that leads to the church. As we parked in the front, my mother checked her makeup within the rear-view mirror. She was not fooling me. The only reason she came to the funeral was to see Brother David, a religious man of the Church. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened the car door and stepped out into the sunlight. As I did, the itchiness increased. The heat made me irritated. I almost wanted to yank the clothes from my body, but I knew my mother would not exactly approve of that.
The church doors were open and I and my mother wandered in. I felt slightly less hot now for the church was an old and airy place.
I gasped up in awe, as I kept on doing every Sunday we came to church. I still could not get over the largeness of the building. It looked so hollow upon the inside.
(to be continued...)
3/82
(part 3)
There were quite a few people dressed in black. Most of them were family that hardly visited. By now, I noticed my suit was itching again. I raised my hand to scratch my shoulder but my mother slapped my hand away just before Brother David came towards us. He was dressed in his usual priest robes, which I always thought made him look like he was wearing a dress. He had a look of remorse upon his face.
“I’m…terribly sorry for your loss, Caroline,” stated Brother David to my mom.
I studied Brother David’s face carefully. He had tenderness in his motions but had a rather strong jaw line. His black hair was well combed and most likely every strand placed in a specific spot. His eyes were a steely blue, half grey and half light blue. I glanced at his hands, which were about chest level, near my height. I was short for a thirteen year old. Brother David almost seemed like he was towering over me, as did my mother. But, I reckon it was the surroundings that made me feel that way.
My mother had responded as I was observing Brother David.
“Why, thank you, David,” she stated, blinking almost coyly.
I was disgusted at the way my mum was behaving. Brother David appeared to seem uneasy at my mother’s response and immediately backtracked in his conversation.
“How terrible, the way he died,” stated Brother David, glancing over in the direction of a stone slab upon which Uncle Rich’s coffin was situated.
(to be continued...)
There were quite a few people dressed in black. Most of them were family that hardly visited. By now, I noticed my suit was itching again. I raised my hand to scratch my shoulder but my mother slapped my hand away just before Brother David came towards us. He was dressed in his usual priest robes, which I always thought made him look like he was wearing a dress. He had a look of remorse upon his face.
“I’m…terribly sorry for your loss, Caroline,” stated Brother David to my mom.
I studied Brother David’s face carefully. He had tenderness in his motions but had a rather strong jaw line. His black hair was well combed and most likely every strand placed in a specific spot. His eyes were a steely blue, half grey and half light blue. I glanced at his hands, which were about chest level, near my height. I was short for a thirteen year old. Brother David almost seemed like he was towering over me, as did my mother. But, I reckon it was the surroundings that made me feel that way.
My mother had responded as I was observing Brother David.
“Why, thank you, David,” she stated, blinking almost coyly.
I was disgusted at the way my mum was behaving. Brother David appeared to seem uneasy at my mother’s response and immediately backtracked in his conversation.
“How terrible, the way he died,” stated Brother David, glancing over in the direction of a stone slab upon which Uncle Rich’s coffin was situated.
(to be continued...)
5/82
Hehehehe
'stated'
i like it so far
'stated'
i like it so far
6/82
Thanks to those who responded.
(part 4)
“Henry, why Don’t you go pay respects to Uncle Rich?” my mother suggested to me, her gaze still upon Brother David.
I glanced up at my mother and looked at her with defiance. She met my eyes with a glare and squeezed my hand slightly hard.
Sighing silently to myself, I let go as she did and made my way down between the pews, past Brother David and my mother and then past my relatives. Most of the women were in black and were crying their eyes out, holding over-used handkerchiefs in one hand or the other.
My Aunt Gladys was past a line of relatives wishing to pay respect to Uncle Rich. She accepted condolences from them after they paid their respects to Uncle Rich.
The sight of Uncle Rich was quite interesting. He was laid out flat in the coffin, his hands resting on his chest. His golden wedding band was noticeable because his bony hands were so white. When I glanced at him, lying there, I expected it to look morbid and depressing. Sort of like those horror comics I read. But, it wasn’t like that at all, really.
(to be continued...)
(part 4)
“Henry, why Don’t you go pay respects to Uncle Rich?” my mother suggested to me, her gaze still upon Brother David.
I glanced up at my mother and looked at her with defiance. She met my eyes with a glare and squeezed my hand slightly hard.
Sighing silently to myself, I let go as she did and made my way down between the pews, past Brother David and my mother and then past my relatives. Most of the women were in black and were crying their eyes out, holding over-used handkerchiefs in one hand or the other.
My Aunt Gladys was past a line of relatives wishing to pay respect to Uncle Rich. She accepted condolences from them after they paid their respects to Uncle Rich.
The sight of Uncle Rich was quite interesting. He was laid out flat in the coffin, his hands resting on his chest. His golden wedding band was noticeable because his bony hands were so white. When I glanced at him, lying there, I expected it to look morbid and depressing. Sort of like those horror comics I read. But, it wasn’t like that at all, really.
(to be continued...)
7/82
(part 5, end of Chapter 1)
His greyish hair was stylised and his profound chin was almost jutting out of the casket. His head was tipped upward, as if he was glancing upwards. His eyes were, respectively, closed. It was hard for me to see him properly, for my eyes barely made it over the open rim of the casket. Also, the casket was upon the stone altar of the Church. I forced myself to bow my head in respect and then walked past Uncle Rich’s dead corpse. The only thing I regretted was that Uncle Rich was not able to attend my birthday party after the Funeral. It would have been fun, having a dead person at your birthday party.
Chapter 2: Birthday Party Antics.
After the funeral, my mother told me to wait in the car as we wandered outside.
I did not complain, for I noticed that Brother David was behind us, obviously my mother wanted to be alone with him. I was disgusted, not wanting to wait around to be told again to wait in the car and went towards our car.
It wasn’t exactly a nice car; it had a dent near the front and was a horrid black-brown colour. Still, it got us where we needed to go, as long as you kicked it first. That is what my mother does. When in doubt, kick the machine to get it working.
Opening the front door, I hopped into the front seat on the passenger side and shut the door behind me.
(to be continued...)
His greyish hair was stylised and his profound chin was almost jutting out of the casket. His head was tipped upward, as if he was glancing upwards. His eyes were, respectively, closed. It was hard for me to see him properly, for my eyes barely made it over the open rim of the casket. Also, the casket was upon the stone altar of the Church. I forced myself to bow my head in respect and then walked past Uncle Rich’s dead corpse. The only thing I regretted was that Uncle Rich was not able to attend my birthday party after the Funeral. It would have been fun, having a dead person at your birthday party.
Chapter 2: Birthday Party Antics.
After the funeral, my mother told me to wait in the car as we wandered outside.
I did not complain, for I noticed that Brother David was behind us, obviously my mother wanted to be alone with him. I was disgusted, not wanting to wait around to be told again to wait in the car and went towards our car.
It wasn’t exactly a nice car; it had a dent near the front and was a horrid black-brown colour. Still, it got us where we needed to go, as long as you kicked it first. That is what my mother does. When in doubt, kick the machine to get it working.
Opening the front door, I hopped into the front seat on the passenger side and shut the door behind me.
(to be continued...)
8/82
(part 6)
My mother was laughing, which was not her real laughter. She used a false laugh whenever Brother David was nearby, not that I could tell it impressed him. For all I knew, maybe it did.
I took a glance at Brother David, he was also smiling, but somehow it seemed false aswell.
Not wanting to hear my mother laugh, I rolled up the window, not that it made much difference besides to deafen the sound slightly.
Sighing in my seat, I sat back and scratched my shoulder. The suit was getting itchy again.
‘Come on, mum, leave him be and let’s go home,’ I thought in irritation.
But, by the way she looked as I glanced out the window, she seemed to be enjoying herself, maybe too much.
Shuddering slightly, I glanced away as I saw my mother bat her eyelashes.
I knew that was a form of flirting, a girl at my school did it once. Obviously, I thought she had a lose eyelash and told the teacher. The rest of the class laughed and jeered at me, Jenny (the girl in question) looked embarrassed.
I never mentioned it again, since for a week my friends teased me by batting their eyelashes at me aswell.
I noticed my cheeks were getting red because they felt warm. I tried to ignore my mum and Brother David.
The tie I wore was choking me again. I pulled at it but gave up. I Don’t know why my mum insisted on putting it on, it was only a clip one. But, she somehow managed to make it too tight on my collar.
(to be continued...)
My mother was laughing, which was not her real laughter. She used a false laugh whenever Brother David was nearby, not that I could tell it impressed him. For all I knew, maybe it did.
I took a glance at Brother David, he was also smiling, but somehow it seemed false aswell.
Not wanting to hear my mother laugh, I rolled up the window, not that it made much difference besides to deafen the sound slightly.
Sighing in my seat, I sat back and scratched my shoulder. The suit was getting itchy again.
‘Come on, mum, leave him be and let’s go home,’ I thought in irritation.
But, by the way she looked as I glanced out the window, she seemed to be enjoying herself, maybe too much.
Shuddering slightly, I glanced away as I saw my mother bat her eyelashes.
I knew that was a form of flirting, a girl at my school did it once. Obviously, I thought she had a lose eyelash and told the teacher. The rest of the class laughed and jeered at me, Jenny (the girl in question) looked embarrassed.
I never mentioned it again, since for a week my friends teased me by batting their eyelashes at me aswell.
I noticed my cheeks were getting red because they felt warm. I tried to ignore my mum and Brother David.
The tie I wore was choking me again. I pulled at it but gave up. I Don’t know why my mum insisted on putting it on, it was only a clip one. But, she somehow managed to make it too tight on my collar.
(to be continued...)
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