Death is not the End

Author's Note: This was something I started about five years ago. It needed a complete overhaul and this is the first part of what came out. Basically this will turn out to be a crime fiction with a fantasy twist. There's also a bit of explortation into the after life that will come out in later chapters (though I'm not 100% sure when or if those chapters will be posted here). If there are any grammatical errors, I appologize. My grammar is decent enough but this has not been professionally looked at like my other work (Tale of the Twins) was. Nonetheless, enjoy. :)

The room felt cold despite the high temperature outside. No matter how many layers she put on, the chill would not leave her bones. Around her, people sobbed softly, the words of comfort near her were lost to her. Words could not chase away the chill, could not ease the pain. Even the very light itself seemed more dull now, diluted as if a thin veil had been pulled over the source to block it.

She sighed; the droning of the priest was a distraction from her thoughts. A hand squeezed her shoulder, trying to give some form of comfort. She ignored it and closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself against the entire world. The priest finished his sermon and people began to leave.

A voice called out to her, asking if she was ready to go. It sounded as if it was miles away, buried under the rubble of a life torn apart. She shook her head in the negative, feeling the shortened locks of her hair brush against her neck. She heard the sigh as the voice moved away, leaving her with her own thoughts.

Finally, she looked up, staring at the single object that was the source of her demise. A casket in dark mahogany stood in the center of white and red roses, taking up the entire front of the small church. She stood slowly, feeling as if she was moving through a dream. Approaching the casket, she stared down into the face of her most prized possession.

The face that stared back at her was serene in death, bright jade green eyes closed. The long black hair was tied back in a low pony tail and kept neatly in place by some kind of gel. She grimaced at that, he would have never worn hair gel. She sighed, running a gentle hand over the pale cheek and wincing at the coldness of his skin.

She remembered a time when that cheek had been so flush with fever. She thought she would lose him. She remembered the pain in those jade eyes when he scrapped his knee when trying to ride his bike for the first time. The happiness those eyes reflected when he turned thirteen, he was overjoyed. Four years ago that, and now, he was dead.

She held back a sob and adjusted her heavy purse, feeling reassurance in its weight. She heard a few people talking in the background. They were discussing how horrible it was that her only son was dead at the ripe young age of seventeen. She could bear no more children, he was her one and only. And now, he was no more. A victim of a violent hate crime because of the way he dressed.

She sighed, shaking her head and pulling her purse in front of her. With a quick glance backwards, she determined no one was close enough to stop her. A small smile played on her lips and she stared down at her son. The zipper on her purse made the slightest of sounds as she opened it.

A moment later, she held the small revolver in her hand, its metallic surface as cold as his skin was. She stared at it a moment, her body blocking the revolver from the view of anyone behind her. She sighed once and brought the gun to her lips. Her eyes swelled with tears as she looked down at the only thing that gave her life any meaning, the young man that was no more.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and blurred the vision of the existence of her life. Finally, with a simple sigh, she pulled the trigger. All at once, there was no more pain. She did not even feel herself fall. It was as if she had blown out a candle, then there was no more.

Feel free to join me on facebook or check out my website (www.vonravenstone.com) for more information on my work. This isn't there yet but if things go well it might be in the future.