Chapter 1: The Changing

Simon's father is laid to rest.

1. Simon
It's impossible to imagine my father motionless. Whenever I saw him he was fidgeting, twitching. Urgently licking his lips. I scowl at the memory. Mum sees, and nervously trots over. 
"Come on..." she murmurs, leading me to the front pew.
The priest clears his throat and begins a generic speech, dressing the memory of my father in lies. I look around me and smirk. If he were such a "great man", why are there only five people here? Aside from Mum, I don't recognize anyone here. The priest winds down his token address, and pauses. 
"Mark's beloved son, Simon, would like to say a few words."
A sudden rush of adrenaline hits me, and I rise. Mum grips my arm for a moment, and I gently shrug her off. I stride forward and meet the priest with a maniacal grin and an outstretched hand. He looks alarmed, and shakily meets my hand with his own. I shake it with gusto, and slap him on the back. He withdraws his palm and averts my gaze. I stand before the microphone, looking out at the church. Mum is the only person looking at me, the rest are looking emotionlessly down at their feet. The sight is so humorous I laugh out loud. This quickly snaps the attention of the three guests.
"I see Mark had as much trouble being a good friend as he had being a good father." I announce between hysterical giggles. Mum looks shocked, but the others only stare vacantly. 
"Of course, it's such a sad story. He left, didn't he? When I was... Mum, how old was I, five months?  Six? Why did he leave?"
I break out into laughter again, and have to catch my breath before I continue.
"I was too loud! My screams were too loud! He never thought that the screams were meant for him. That I needed him. But he left! He fucked off!"
The priest coughs pointedly and gently crosses himself. My mother avoids my gaze.
"That was a long time ago. I've stopped screaming now. I've stopped needing him. I'll never need him. I'm glad he's dead."
I look down at the coffin and a smile saunters across my lips, but disappears as a prickly feeling runs down my neck up. I look up, and see a girl glaring at me from the back pew. There, sitting patiently beside her, was my father.

Reviews

[Ecrid]

Hello, might I make the suggestion that sir put Urgently licking his lips in its own paragraph. That or perhaps sir doesn't require it as sir might find that it breaks the flow.

In addition, might I mention that adrenal production is suppressed by sadness and bereavement.

In addition, the dialogue should be slightly less aggressive. Though the character is interesting I find him rather unenjoyable and a tad, if I may say so sir, repulsive.

In addition, the shouting of his words suggests a lack of fundamental human nature.

The ending was quite charging though, and I shall extend to you my congratulations.

Very good, sir.

-Ecrid