“But we can’t put her in that dark, deep hole.” Lorna sniffled and looked from the cold lifeless body beside her back to the recently excavated hole.
“What do we do then honey?” Tom stood looking at his twelve-year-old daughter. How can you explain death and the afterlife to someone who covers her ears every time you try? He considered his options. He decided time was the only logical choice. It was getting cool. November and cool in Ireland means you do not stand still for long. He knew that in ten minutes time they would be refilling the soil on top of the inert body, driven by the need to stay warm.
Lorna surveyed him. “You don’t care, do you?”
He looked around him. That was too like his ex-wife’s voice and tone for him. He shivered and tried not to consider the possibility that Lorna was more like Sue than he would like.
“I do.” He turned to her and pointed. “Look at these eyes. They can’t cry anymore today. All out of tears. I just need to get this job done. We should go somewhere and remember her when she was happy and well.
“Ok. But she can’t go in there alone.”
This statement chilled him to the bone. He stepped back. But Lorna had run back to the car and arrived back hugging some items. Her favourite pink jumper she placed it on top and then added a tennis ball and a chewed up teddy bear. He smiled.
“Thanks that’s better. I’m glad one of us thought this through.”
“Yes dad, I know but women are known to be much more sensitive than men. Let’s do this.”
They worked in silence. Twenty minutes later and the job was done. Lorna place a large stick at the top to mark the grave and a bright blue rubber bone at the bottom. He looked at it and raised his eyebrows.
She whispered. “It’s for Penney’s children, the pups will have to come and visit their mums grave, they will need something to keep them busy. This should work.”
With a flick of her dark brown hair she pivoted about and walked back to the car. He followed her, wiping the tears from his eyes. As they drove towards home he asked,
“When did you become older and wiser than me?”
“Many lives ago, dad, many lives ago.”
This post is a DP Weekly challenge: Dialogue rules can be found at the following page;
I like the way the girl comes across as child but also with flashes of grown up in the same piece. When I was a child I always felt grown up and was cross when people underestimated that.
Thank you Denise, I didn’t know if it worked but tried it anyway.
I think dialogue is *&*&@@*” difficult to get right. I pretty much try to avoid it wherever I can.
You did a good job.
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Thanks for your interest in “Tails from Paris”. We’re now following your blog.
If you want to sharpen your international sense of humor, we do also have a French version called “Sous nos Couettes” : http://sousnoscouettes.com/.
Thanks for sharing if you enjoy it too …
Best from Paris, France
Alix, Roxane & their bald, bold & funny Dad
Death — the saddest part of life. 😦
Very touching story.