It was a marvellous day to die.
Each tiny drop of rain resembled molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to flood. Even the air itself felt grey. That colour was everywhere - including the decomposing corpse of Cousin Larry.
So, you see, it was a marvellous day to die...and Cousin Larry had stolen it from me.
I sat, perfectly miserable, on the sofa. It was lopsided and had a plethora of rips on its vantablack surface. I stuck my fingernail into one and wriggled it around until the hole tore open even further. The filling spilled out, quite similar to the innards of a freshly sliced abdomen. How wonderful.
"My dear sister..." A voice sounded from the other side of the room like teeth chipping against metal. "Are you still sulking about Cousin Larry?"
I crossed my legs, feeling the weight of leather, knee-high boots on my feet. It was an exquisite feeling - like being chained to a cannonball at the bottom of the ocean. "Of course I am. It was positively devilish of him to ruin my Death Day."
"Ah, yes, but how else would we describe our departed cousin if not devilish?" My sister smiled like a sly coyote feasting on the corpse of a rattle snake. Men had always adored that sinister grin of hers, with its lopsided tilt and crooked teeth. "You should not have told him that you had planned to depart on this day. You know how he adores ruining all of our family events."
That scandalous Larry was a handful, that much was certainly true. He had spiked our uncle's drink with cyanide one year, then robbed his grave during the following visit.
"That frown looks divine on you, Elvira, but you simply must get ready." She insisted. "To be late is customary, but we do not want to miss the coffin lowering. It is the best part of any funeral."
I chewed on my bottom lip, hard, and tasted the divine tinge of metal. Swiping my tongue across my lips, the blood coated them as vibrant as any crimson lipstick. "Quite right, Aurora. I suppose I will have to postpone my own venture into the Ethereal Realm."
Hearing the truth in my sisters words, I decided that if I was not able to attend my own funeral on this day...then I might as well go to Larry's. Despite his betrayal, we were still family, and he would surely notice my absence.
Per my darling sister's request, I lifted myself from the couch and sauntered towards the grand staircase. It had once been painted a vivid red, but over the years the layers began to chip away to reveal the white base. Personally, I preferred it this way. It looked like little bits of bone being drenched with crimson blood. I took that thought with me as I vanished into my room. I let it seep into my mind and evoke gore-ish images, and when I dressed, I thought only of what might compliment that blood-riddled bone best.
I found satisfaction in a long, shapely dress with a matching corset. It was impossibly tight and in the only colour I ever wore; black. Such a sweet shade, it was, that I wished the whole world could be plunged into ever-lasting night to match it.
As I descended back down to the living room, Aurora eagerly stepped towards the door. She tapped her long, coffin-shaped nails against the knob. "Come, come, lovely Elvira, we mustn't dawdle any longer."
But dawdle I did.
With a sideways glance at Aurora, I shuffled to the other side of the room where we kept the most marvellous hooks. They were pinned against the wall, shaped like talons, and hanging from each was a rope.
"Elvira." Aurora warned in her honeyed voice.
"Can I not say a quick farewell to mama?" I questioned, feigned innocence wrapped in the cloth of a demon.
Aurora did not argue, because she knew that mama would be dreadfully cross with her if she refused. So, with a sly smirk lacing my red lips, I leaned down to greet our mother. Her shrunken, decapitated head was attached to one of the ropes. I kissed her cheek and chirped "Goodbye, mama. We shall return soon."
Aurora blew our mother a kiss instead; it fluttered in the air like a moth, then landed on mama's forehead. Then, at last, we left.
The outside of our small castle was patched unevenly with black ivy, and arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. I always despised leaving it alone. I thought that it might become cross with us for departing and throw itself over the hillside. Maybe it would this time.
Even if our home did crawl towards the edge of that hill, we would certainly see it. The funeral was being held only a few feet away, within the family graveyard.
It was placed just a short walk from the backyard, and ravaged by a year-long winter with violets and daisies. It always made me fall in love with death all over again; to think that I could be buried in so sweet a place.
The rest of our family was already there, dressed in their finest silks and darkest blacks. They were laughing, and singing, and spilling wine over the soil. You could easily tell them apart from Cousin Larry's colleagues.
He had once worked in retail, you see. As a manager, no less! It was quite an embarrassment to the Solstice family name. Most of our ancestors were morticians, or tarot card readers, or spell casters. Even Aurora dabbled in the morgue every so often. You could only imagine the horror that we all felt when we found out that he was selling cute, frilly clothing to people. It wasn't until later that we found out he was cursing every item that he sold. He became our pride and joy after that, the rascal.
Regardless, his work friends were standing a fair distance from the rest of us. They wore pitifully woeful expressions. I could even see a tear or two running down their cheeks. It was a little puzzling, for this was a momentous occasion. A joyful ceremony to be celebrated, and yet they wept.
"Look at those poor souls." Aurora hummed curiously. "Do you think they're ill?"
"I do not know." I replied, scanning the small group of mortals. "They do look dreadfully red-eyed."
I thought that, perhaps, I should just leave them to their own devices...until I spotted something that stole the chilled air from my lungs. A woman that stood in the snow like an ink portrait.
Her mouth was a gash of red lipstick, like the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice, bloody and oracular. Behind it her teeth shone sharp and white as tendons. Her hair was a nest of dark curls, like vines twisting chaotically over her head, and her skin seemed as if it had been kissed by the night sky.
Something moved inside of my chest...it pounded like a drum against my ribcage and I thought it might tear me asunder. It was almost painful, how it thumped so rapidly. In all my twenty-four years of life, I had never felt anything like it before. My heart had never even stirred, but now it tried to escape its fleshy prison...the traitor. I knew, though, that I could not ignore such a sudden upstart. A Solstice's heart only revived itself for a soul that sung the same as their own.
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