A Little Piece of Grief (752 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: untruth
Rating: 1.59 on 29 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Snark << snarkk.at.gmail.com (View user info) at 2007-01-24 14:44:01 EST
A LITTLE PIECE OF GRIEF
He did it all for the sake of a little red button.
None of us know why for sure, but we all remember it in our nightmares and those fleeting moments during each day when something reminds us of him, and the memories hiding in the shadows creep up to touch us coldly on the back of the neck.
It happened at Molly Frank's Funeral. It happened on a Sunday afternoon when those good Christians in town, who weren't mourning, were resting.
His name was Buster Thompson. He was Molly's brother. He was the only surviving relative of the deceased, her husband having passed away the year before. Choked on his tongue in the night they say. He was 55 and we all agreed that it was a damned shame to see such a good man pass so early in life.
I saw Peter Frank the night before he died. He'd asked me to drop by after fellowship to pick up the revised day-crew list for the mill he owned and I ran. He greeted me warmly at the door. He looked good. He was wearing a pair of grey flannel pajamas. All the buttons were white except for a single red one which glinted dull in the swinging glare of the porch light.
I only remember because it stuck out in a strangely tacky sort of way, like a yellow bow tie on a three piece suit.
Peter was a good man; much loved by us all, something you don't usually find with a man of privilege and power. Molly's decline was quick after his passing.
I saw her at the funeral and then again two weeks later at the market. Her skin was grey and her once warm eyes were bloodshot and sunken. Typically regal red hair fell about her face in tangled curls and she had on the same black dress as two weeks prior minus the veil.
I remember shivering despite myself as if her sorrow was radiating from her in cold waves, and I wondered if I had looked the same after my Mary died.
I said my hello to her and offered a hand. She accepted, partially because she needed it and partially because of the horrible unspoken kinship shared by those who have loved and lost.
I pushed the cart while she shopped. We didn't speak much. I told her not to worry about the Mill, that I was keeping things in hand until she felt like discussing her wishes. I told her about the family of raccoons that had taken up residence in my backyard, and that the almanac was predicting a dry summer.
When the cart was full, I helped load the back of the truck and she turned and thanked me. I told her to call me if she ever needed anything and she said she would, but we both knew the lie for the simple pleasantry it was. She straightened the pleats in her dress and then turned and a single red button glinted in the yellow glow of the street lamp.
I saw her once more, two weeks later when she entered my office and solemnly announced her desire to sell the mill. She was little more than a scarecrow. She wore the same black dress. I don't remember seeing the button but I suppose it was there. I wouldn't have noticed an elephant sitting on my desk. It was the shock of seeing the most beautiful woman in town fall to ruin I guess.
A month later, Molly left us to be with Peter. Choked on her tongue in her sleep they say.
They buried her in the same dress. I remember standing over her and thinking it was a horrible irony that she seemed to be morning herself. I lowered my eyes and said my prayers then stepped aside as Buster came up beside me.
A man sees a fair amount of grief by the time he reaches my age. He watches friends and loved ones leave the world and sees the legacy of their passing in each tear and heart broken shudder of those who assemble to say their goodbyes.
Each of us handles loss in our own way. I've seen crying, laughter, and cold hard denial but I've never seen such purely desperate sorrow as that which played across the big man's face like the unforgiving light from a swinging bulb.
I watched as he leaned over his sister's lifeless body and I put my hand on his shoulder as he reached one shaking hand towards her pale face. He gently brushed her cheek and then a sound escaped his throat that was half sob half croak, and before I could do anything he'd forced open her dead mouth.
The stitches holding her lips together tore away and the space between us filled with the wretched smell of embalming fluids. I watched in horror as Buster grabbed the bottom and top jaw, then screamed and pulled. Bones cracked and her face split wide and then I was grabbing at his arms in shocked desperation as he forced his hand down her throat.
He shrugged me off as if I bore all the weight of a three year old child then forced his hand deep into the corpse of his beloved sister, let out a sob, then turned, held his hand out towards me and said simply "See?".
Something inside me told me not to look but I did. His hand was dry despite where it had emerged from. It shook as if connected to an electrical outlet. Wide finger's were splayed and there dead center in the palm of his hand lay a simple red button.
He took a step forward and smiled and then I hit him and all hell broke loose.
The room filled with screams and shouts as the realization of what has happening made itself clear to mourner and attendant alike.
It took eight grown men to hold Buster down once he realized the button was no longer in his hand and half as many police to get him into the squad car. They took him to cool off. No one wanted to press charges.
He died in jail later that night. Hung himself with a shoelace they say.
It wasn't until I got home, and the hell of the day began to fade away, that I noticed the lump in my shoe. It wasn't until I slipped it off and reached my hand inside and held it out to glint dull red in the palm of my hand that I realized what it was.
I'm sitting in my office and remembering these things. My door is shut. It muffles the sound of screaming metal and ripping wood. The button is in my pocket. My right hand fidgets with it restlessly.
I'm thinking I should visit Buster's grave and leave the thing he so desperately wanted.
Maybe tomorrow I'll take off from work a bit early and take a stroll through the cemetery.
Maybe I'll stop and say a prayer for Molly and Peter and then leave the button in the fresh dirt covering Buster.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
User Reviews
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2008-09-15 15:26:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
awww
Submitted by Alter (user info) at 2007-09-26 22:38:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No, Comment.
Submitted by Snare (user info) at 2007-02-21 16:13:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
kick ass.
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2007-02-16 12:24:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+1 for Circe making me laugh... and +1 for this:
"Submitted by homer42 (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:51:55 (#)
Ranking: 2
Original fiction is often under-rated on here. Nice work."
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-31 22:09:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-01-31 21:37:05 (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-01-31 20:41:58 (#)
Ranking: 2
Snark seems like the marryin' kind, to me.
I imagine, to you, he would.
If you want to marry a world full of problems with very few prospects and a terrible writing contest commissioner, then he is your man.
And Shlongy is legally ordained and would be happy to perform the ceremony, gratis.
Of course, I'll have to be completely obliterated to stomach this match made in Uber but what the hell.
-----------
Lemme set my secret decoder ring to tard before I respond.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-01-31 21:37:05 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-01-31 20:41:58 (#)
Ranking: 2
Snark seems like the marryin' kind, to me.
I imagine, to you, he would.
If you want to marry a world full of problems with very few prospects and a terrible writing contest commissioner, then he is your man.
And Shlongy is legally ordained and would be happy to perform the ceremony, gratis.
Of course, I'll have to be completely obliterated to stomach this match made in Uber but what the hell.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2007-01-31 20:48:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is shit and it doesn't make any sense.
Jealousy is a curse.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2007-01-31 20:41:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Snark seems like the marryin' kind, to me.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-31 20:29:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Ahahahahaha
You tool.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-01-31 19:05:17 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-31 16:38:54 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2007-01-31 15:01:01 (#)
Ranking: -2
It must have been pure torture going 5 or 6 days without "seeing yourself in print", eh?
This post is a result of you satisfying that craving, that yearning...that mindless bullshitting.
===========
Fuckin guy describes himself to a T and still gives you a hypocritical neg 2.
Who the fuck are you...Underdog, to the rescue of the damsel in distress?
Well, if you're coming to her rescue, you better make sure you can carry that heffer to safety.
Based on her camwhores, and the fact that I've seen your picture, too, I don't think you have it in you, Wally Cox.
Did you even READ her stupid post? I spell shit in the snow with my piss that is more entertaining than that fucking post.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2007-01-25 20:00:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I like it's simplicity.
I wish I knew what the hell the red button means but then again it really makes the story
great that there is no explanation.
TELL ME!!! NO DON'T!!! YES TELL! NOOOOOOO!!!!
Submitted by rorrim (user info) at 2007-01-25 09:42:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
comment.
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2007-01-25 09:28:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I have missed you!!!
You never let me down. Awesome post.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-01-24 22:01:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by swimmingbirdblue (user info) at 2007-01-24 22:01:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-01-24 21:40:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A 2 minute punk song winner of a post.
Submitted by sweetcheebs (user info) at 2007-01-24 19:31:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I wanted it to go a little further. It was very interesting and twisty turny though.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2007-01-24 17:22:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Should be more developed, but I like it.
Submitted by ticklish_squirrel (user info) at 2007-01-24 16:31:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice work
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2007-01-24 16:07:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:30:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:01:42 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:55:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
Who the fuck is snark?
============
Some hack, likes to post his shit on the intraweb rather than seeking publishing of consequence.
----
also, UberHoncho of UberMadness
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:06:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:01:42 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:55:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
Who the fuck is snark?
============
Some hack, likes to post his shit on the intraweb rather than seeking publishing of consequence.
---
Well then, nice to meet you. I like to post my shit on tha inter-web seeking inconsequential publicity.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:03:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Refreshingly different.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:02:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-24 15:01:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:55:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
Who the fuck is snark?
============
Some hack, likes to post his shit on the intraweb rather than seeking publishing of consequence.
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:55:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Who the fuck is snark?
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:52:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by homer42 (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:51:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Original fiction is often under-rated on here. Nice work.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2007-01-24 14:45:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Wrote this some time ago. Forgot I had until just now.
Hardly worth posting but, you know, what the fuck.