I should clarify that this is not a personal story, but a work of fiction. I wanted to write something from a different perspective and I came up with this story. I hope you enjoy!
-Jen
The curtain and blinds of the window had been pulled aside to allow thin shafts of light into the room. I watched as dust particles danced around, never quite landing, but suspended in time and space. That’s just how I felt at the moment--permanently halted. To keep myself from dwelling on this nagging feeling of hopelessness, I traced my fingers across the pattern of the faded arm chair. Green and pale red fleur-de-lis reminiscent of the French monarchy were prominent in the fabrics design. Perhaps the owner of the arm chair considers themselves a descendant of a royal blood line. Other people shuffle in around me, briefly sitting, heads down, whispering quietly amongst themselves until they progressed into the adjoining room. No one approached me or asked why I was sitting in the arm chair. No one spoke my name or even looked at me. I caught a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. Happy to see them I raised my hand in an inaudible hello, too afraid to break the silence; but they refused to look my way. Slightly hurt, I reasoned that they probably hadn’t noticed me.
-Jen
The curtain and blinds of the window had been pulled aside to allow thin shafts of light into the room. I watched as dust particles danced around, never quite landing, but suspended in time and space. That’s just how I felt at the moment--permanently halted. To keep myself from dwelling on this nagging feeling of hopelessness, I traced my fingers across the pattern of the faded arm chair. Green and pale red fleur-de-lis reminiscent of the French monarchy were prominent in the fabrics design. Perhaps the owner of the arm chair considers themselves a descendant of a royal blood line. Other people shuffle in around me, briefly sitting, heads down, whispering quietly amongst themselves until they progressed into the adjoining room. No one approached me or asked why I was sitting in the arm chair. No one spoke my name or even looked at me. I caught a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. Happy to see them I raised my hand in an inaudible hello, too afraid to break the silence; but they refused to look my way. Slightly hurt, I reasoned that they probably hadn’t noticed me.
Now that my gaze had been broken away from the window, I looked around the room. Everything was in varying shades of green, red, and gold--warm colors in an oddly cold environment. A piano stood in the corner opposite the front door and coat closet while a large wreath of flowers was positioned in the other. I began to notice a soft melody, but it wasn’t emitting from the piano. Rather, it drifted in from the other room and like a beacon or a siren it hooked me into its pull. Muscles stiff as if I hadn’t moved in years, I pushed myself out of the chair and slowly walked forward. I tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible for I would be the last person into the room. Upon entering obtrusiveness became the last of my worries. My eldest sister stood at the head of the room tears sliding down her face as she silently moved her mouth. She was in a desperate struggle to force words from her unwilling vocal cords, for next to her lay my body in a coffin.
