Hour Of Darkness

CH. 2 - "The Funeral"

2...The Funeral...

“May our loved ones rest in peace in the arms of the Lord.”

The preacher's words came to Clarice from a great distance away, though the man stood just a few feet from her, forcing her out of her deadened state of mind and back to a reality she didn't want to face. The numbing sensation had begun deep inside her the moment she'd arrived at her parents' home in time to see the coroner wheeling a body bag from inside the house. A sensation that had steadily spread outward until her whole body had lost all feeling. Any minute now, she was certain, her knees would buckle and she would crumple in a heap right there on the crisp frost laden grass that covered the cemetery grounds.

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Clarice opened her eyes, unaware they had been closed. She stared blankly at the three bone white caskets, each hovering above a dark hole that would seal her family's deaths as final. Hanging tensely at her sides, her gloveless hands ached from the bitter November air. She thought about putting them in the pockets of her coat, but the numbness of her mind had robbed her of the ability to command her limbs.

What was she going to do without her parents? Without Aaron? Her twin brother, her other half. Since they were born, he had always been there. He was a part of her. When life got too rough, he'd always been the one she ran to. He was her refuge. Her family was her refuge. And now it was gone. All of it. How was she supposed to get through this alone? She had no one now.

Clarice's eyes were vacant as they slowly swept over the crowd of mourners. Her family was well loved, but she didn't know these people. She hadn't lived here for years. Her gaze came to rest momentarily on a uniformed officer standing idle at the perimeter of the crowd of mourners. He watched the procession for a moment then met Clarice's gaze briefly before scanning the cemetery grounds as if searching for something, or someone. Apparently satisfied by what he didn't find, his attention returned to Clarice.

Clarice looked away.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The preacher spoke with sincere emotion. This didn't seem to be just a job to him, and for that Clarice was thankful. Her family deserved sincerity. “Now, a moment of silence.”

Clarice watched the mourners as their heads slowly bowed and their eyes closed. Some were crying openly, others simply stood there with distraught looks on their faces as if they hadn't yet come to terms with this atrocity that had taken the lives of three amazing people. Clarice could sympathize. She wondered if she would ever come to terms with it.

Her eyes came to rest on a man standing apart from the other mourners near a large headstone. Early thirties, six foot or thereabouts, he wore a black suit and white shirt but no tie, and sunglasses. His short cropped black hair barely responded to the light breeze.

The man's head wasn't bowed and he seemed to be watching Clarice. She stared back at him for a long moment as she sensed a twinge of recognition. Was he someone she used to know when she had lived here in her early youth? Before she really knew what she was doing, she took a step forward in his direction, a sudden urge to get closer, see him better. She didn't understand the need to know just who he was, but it controlled her, pulling her in his direction. She knew him, she was sure of it. Why that mattered, she didn't know. There were surely others here that she had known when she was younger. So what made this man different?

“Miss Stuart?” The preacher was suddenly at her side, speaking gently. Clarice blinked and aborted her mission to discover the stranger's identity, then shifted her attention to the preacher. He nodded towards the caskets. Her hands had gone numb so that she had forgotten she was holding three red roses. She stepped forward, walking slowly to the caskets. Her knees felt weak but she somehow maintained a steady forward movement.