The solemn faces. People dressed in black, standing in a semicircle around the coffin. The quiet, middle-aged priest standing at the head of the circle. The sun was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. All of these made the day very dull. A day in which the residents of Cosporth town gathered at the cemetery to mourn one of their own.
Some shook their heads, wondering how a sweet teenage girl, beloved by almost everyone, was hurt and left for dead the night before.
"We know how special Irene Davidson was to us. Everyone loved her and I especially will miss her smiles and encouraging words," the priest began his eulogy, glancing from one face to the next in the semicircle. They nodded in affirmation.
He continued, "we have faith that Irene's story does not end here. She has gone home to be with the Lord and to rest in peace, saying goodbye to the trials and pains of this life. I know you all have something to say but let's give her best friend, Colin, a minute to say something."
Everyone turned to look at Colin Temple, Irene's best friend. Colin sniffed, his nose red from sadness and unshed tears. He stepped forward a little to stand by the coffin and thought he heard, or felt a thud underneath his feet. He glanced at the priest, who was also his father. His head was bowed in reverence. It seemed no one felt or heard the thud.
Colin cleared his throat. Thud, thud. He looked back at other residents. No one heard the thud. He shrugged. "I-uh, Irene, I miss you so much and hope you are happy wherever you are now."
The priest furrowed his brow at his son who shrugged in response before joining the semicircle. "She's with the Lord in heaven, Colin," he quickly added.
"You don't know that," Colin bit back. His father smiled awkwardly as other residents glanced between both of them. The priest felt sorry for his son. Colin always had a mind of his own, not even his religious upbringing could make him believe.
As the funeral came to an end and the coffin was lowered into the ground, the residents of Cosporth dispersed. Colin watched as the coffin was dropped into the ground and sand shovelled on top of it by the undertakers. He turned to leave and heard a faint whisper of his name.
Huh?
He looked back, saw no one and admitted he was hearing things. He strolled back home alone.
Inside the coffin, it was completely dark, warm and stifling. "Little deep breaths, little deep breaths….," Irene whispered to herself before hitting the roof of the coffin again and again. A clothes napkin dropped on her chest. She burst into tears. It was her favourite.
"If only someone would hear me," she whispered and felt that she was being lowered into the ground.
"No, no, no. Colin! Colin!" She screamed her best friend's name but the thick wood muffled her voice. She started hyperventilating.
Everyone believed she was dead which means she had just been buried alive.
I hope you enjoyed reading my piece. This freewrite is inspired by the prompt "clothes napkin". Join the @freewriters community to receive daily prompts, hosted by @mariannewest. You are invited to participate.