I might be crazy for releasing a second story, but I'm going to do it anyway.
This is going to be taking a risk and I'm going to be working a bit out of my comfort zone. So, as my first thriller story, I present to you the first chapter of
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Underlying Truths - Prologue
Tears blurred my vision as the solemn ceremony began to reach its end. In the middle of a vast field with what seemed to be the best-kept grass for miles, was a rectangular hole dug into the ground nearing 9 feet in depth. Sobs came from next to me as a concrete casing holding a person important to all the lives present began to be lowered into the ground. I stood between two bodies, both male and both incredibly emotional.
The one on my right was a son, a son who was in the middle of the grieving. Having lost his father to a long battle of cancer was not something easy to go through, not that I would know--or even want to find out. His father was like a father to me, too, but I was ready for this. I've been mentally preparing myself for when this time came. I knew far before his son did that this was how it was eventually going to end.
On my left was a boy that I thought I would never see again. He moved away 6 years ago after his dad got relocated to a different branch of their company. His father, having proved that he deserved a promotion, was invited back after six years and they had just moved back two weeks ago to the house they used to live in and still owned. His homecoming was bittersweet since it was about the time that the currently grieving son received the news that his father wasn't going to make it and that his time was coming soon. Although his welcome back celebration wasn't grand, he understood. He understood and sympathized because we were all so close to losing someone dear to our hearts.
The grieving son is Spencer. The returning friend is Will. I am Carina. We've been best friends for as long as we can all remember.
The tears sliding down our faces were not something we could control or even want to control. This was our time to be sad, to mope, and to look back on the amazing life of someone prominent in all our lives. To rush things and try to convince ourselves that everything was okay was out of the question. Things weren't okay. Not right now.
I leaned my head on Will's shoulder, the handkerchief he offered me pressed up against my nose, covering my mouth. Sob after sob left my throat and my eyes were sore from all the crying over the last couple of days. When I woke up this morning, I though I would be able to keep away the tears and be there for my friend, who had just lost so much more than I. However, as soon as they began lowering the man that had become a second father to me into the soil, I couldn't keep it together anymore. It felt impossible.
Those who worshiped Mother Nature would offer comforting words saying, "to the soil we return." Christians would say, "...to dust we shall return," instead. No matter what anyone said, the loss was still so fresh that no words of comfort could distract our grieving hearts. We were all nineteen and just back from our first year of college. Our first summer home after being away for 9 months shouldn't have begun like this, but it did.
My father, being Spencer's father's oncologist, had already talked to me about the little time that Spencer's dad had left before Spencer was told. Spencer's father wanted his last days spent, though weak, with as much joy and energy as any other day of the year. After having his youngest son finally come home, he didn't want sympathy and to be treated with such fragility that it would seem awfully close to pity. He wanted life. Life that he knew would soon leave him.
The day soon came when he no longer woke up. Spencer called me from his father's bedside phone in a panic. He was verging on anger when I heard my father telling him that there was nothing we could do once we were over at his house. After he was done yelling in denial, he broke down. He fell to his knees right in front of my father and just fell apart.
That was three days ago. Spencer's older brothers, after flying home at the news, decided to have a short wake for their father before the burial. That brings us back to the present. Bringing my head up from Will's shoulder, I faced Spencer and hugged his waist just as they began to fill the hole with soil, separating Spencer from his father forever. Spencer's face dug itself into my neck, as he held onto me tightly, probably so overwhelmed with everything. Will's arm was wrapped around my shoulders; he was the most composed out of all of us.
Once the ceremony was over, the guests dispersed. My parents going on home, telling me I was free to stay at either of the boys' houses that night, knowing that we were all going to stay together today. Soon, only the three of us were left. Spencer's brothers having gone home to deal with whatever they had left to do and Will's family returning home after bidding us goodbye. Within an hour, it was only us three, standing before the spot deemed Spencer's father's resting place as the sun shined above us.