Those dressed in black, weeped and waild. Some stood stationary overwhelmed by the catastrophe. A rabble, crowded a wooden grained coffin. The priest said the prayers and all departed. All but two...
It was a bleak and shadowy afternoon, a small boy named Christopher and his father William Clarence, stood infront of a new grave stone stating:
' Fleur Clarence 1958 - 1997'
Willam stood crimpled and trembling. His eyes were sore from tears spilling out like rivers. William held his sons hand tight and firm, he whispered.
"Your mothers gone, and never to return. Your my only memory of her. I love you son." William sniffled and started to sob again.
His son Christopher smiled fiendishly, but then again, he was only small. He didn't understand much of what was going on. As for his father, he was dismayed and heavy hearted.
Both dressed in black suits and white shirts were silent. Stillness moved throughout their journey home. The old rust grey car, came to a halt infront of a towering, overcast house. Some windows were cracked and curtains waved like ghosts in the light breeze. The wooden balcony started to break and fill with mold. Trees near by looked like mysteriouse creatures. William opened the big wooden front door, and they both stepped inside...