Funeral for the living

Her limp arms fell upon the bed cover. His hands were on her back, arms crossed. Her tenseless neck holding her head no more, only acting as the rope from which it hung. Her blue eyes looked dead in the candlelight, Her mouth slightly open, showing what could only be described as a pitiful smile. A smile that can only be shown in times of hopelessness beyond ethics. His arms were crossed on Her back. He held Her close, just as if She’d been his own daughter who had just met a truck at the speed of 120 kilometers per hour. Looking up from Her naked body, his brown eyes looked around his surroundings, as if the last seed of miracles had to be nearby, and one simply needed to say its name aloud for it to appear. The man's face was a sad one. Not only because She was gone, but also due to the turmoil he felt now. What once was his very own culture had now become an expired shell. The soul had left, with no way to return.

He carried Her across the field. The dark-green reeds reaching his knees, and the stale water swallowing his shins. He wore no clothes, nor did She. Their bright facades and shiny vanities were long gone. Reaching the center of the field, shown by a circle of reed-less water, he lowered Her body into the water. The water slowly began to swallow Her, slowly enveloping Her in a thin sheet of water, that became thicker the further down She sank. Having been completely swallowed by the water, She sank deeper and deeper, until She could no longer be seen by the man.

An egg drifted from the depths, slowly rising towards the surface. Reflecting the light of the sunlit moon, it glistened with the sparkles of a thousand white fireflies. The man, blinded by the sight of such purity and honesty, fell to his knees in awe. The water from the splash made by his body created a rainbow of new colours in the droplets of water. The rainbow faded in an instant, showering the water with ripples, creating small waves. The moment was gone, and so was She.