Last week, Chuck gave us 10 titles to pick from... this week, there's another 10 titles to pick from. I chose 'Sincerely, your Mortician'
enjoy!
Last week, I checked the letterbox to find
an envelope inside it with the words, ‘Sincerely, Your Mortician’ written on
the front in very nice calligraphy.
I had no idea what to make of this, as it
wasn’t something you’d normally find in a letterbox. Was this something of a
joke that the kids around the neighbourhood were playing, as they filmed me on
their phones from a distance? Did they put a live spider inside it waiting for
me to open it and jump out at me; scaring the crap out of me as the poor
critter raced off in fear – or bit me and caused me to get sick?
Opening it carefully, I held it away from
me, gave it a shake and out fell a letter – and nothing else.
Well... okay.
I picked it up, opened it and found it was
addressed to me.
‘Dear Cecilly,
It is time for you to be ready.
Is your dress organised?
Is your Will in order?
Have you told everyone you love them?
Sincerely,
Your Mortician’
Shaking, I folded the letter along its
creases and pushed it back into the envelope, looked around the street.
A bird sang from a tree.
A car putted by as it was about to turn the
corner.
A child’s laugh was heard from the house
next door.
I turned and walked back inside my house. I
put the letter away in a place where I didn’t have to see it.
Two weeks past.
The letter’s meaning began to fade.
I had begun to get back into a normal
routine again.
Then I checked my letterbox again and there
was another letter with the same words on it in the same calligraphy. Inside it
was the same letter addressed to me.
I called the police as I found the other
letter in the drawer in the sideboard.
They came and looked at them side by side.
“They’re exactly the same.” One said taking
notes.
“How long have you lived here, Miss...”
“Oh, just call me Cecilly.” I said,
“Everyone around here does. And I’ve been here around forty years in this very
same house.”
They asked me all kinds of questions. From
how well I get along with my neighbours to who would hate me enough to scare
me. I had no idea who’d want to scare me and as far as I knew, nobody had
anything against me to cause this kind of thing to happen.
The two rose from the kitchen chairs,
thanking me for the tea, saying they’d let me know if they find anything. They
took one letter with them in a sleeve and left the other with me.
However I felt as though it wasn’t much use
getting them here. I still felt fear in my heart because of what’s happened.
So, I called my daughter.
She wasn’t home.... I wished she was, I
really needed her.
A week later, I found another letter of the
same kind in my letterbox. My gut turned cold as I didn’t want to touch it.
Pulling out my phone, I called the police from my footpath and they arrived
immediately.
It was the very same as the other two.
They were grateful I hadn’t touched it.
They took it away for me.
I tried to call my daughter again; but found
her mobile went straight to voice mail, and her answering machine at home told
me it was full and I couldn’t leave a message.
I decided to go to church as I always found
this a place of solace and where I often found peace. But as I walked through
the doors, I found they were fixing up the place for a funeral. A casket was
down the front with the most gorgeous flowers all around. People were beginning
to arrive.
There was one problem: I knew all these
people. They all walked up to the lovely casket and chatted about ‘how could
this happen to her?’
Then, I saw my daughter and my two sons and
rose, but a hand caught my arm. Turning, I saw a man dressed in a mortician’s
suit, “I wouldn’t.” He said.
Pulling free, I walked off, “Leave me alone.
I don’t know you.” I approached Lilly, Davin and Gary, “Oh my children, I’m so
sorry for your loss... I have no words to express how horrible this must be for
you all.”
“They can’t hear you.” He stood by my side, “And
they can’t see you either; or me for that matter.”
I ignored him as I reached out to touched my
darling Lilly and she suddenly pulled away from me, rubbing her arm frowning at
me – through me – as she searched the crowd for who touched her... and yet...
who didn’t.
“Lil, you okay?” Davin was by her side in a
moment, his arm around his little sister, knowing she was a person who was
known as a ‘sensitive’.
“I think Mum’s here. She touched my arm and
I heard her voice calling me ‘darling Lilly’, but it was at a whisper; I couldn’t
hear it above the noise here.”
“Of course I’m here, sweetheart.” I stood
right in front of her, “Why can’t you see me?” I turned to the man in the suit,
“Why can’t they see me? What did you do to me?”
“Here.” He handed me an envelope. It was the
same as the ones I found in my letterbox at my house.
“I don’t want your stupid prank letters!” I
screamed at him and the light on the wall nearby exploded as my anger showed
itself clearly.
“I’m so sorry you don’t remember how you
died.” His deep voice whispered through the audience of the people I know here
today, “I think it’s best you take a seat before we take a nice walk. You have
to calm down.”
I sat at the back of my church, where I had
frequented for most of my life as the funeral procession started.
The pastor stood up the front in his formal
robes, admired the lovely flowers on the casket and turned toward the full
church, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and the death of Cecilly
Lilly Archer. She was a loving mother of three children and unfortunately left
this life far too soon; having been found on her footpath by passing joggers
last week as she checked her letterbox. She suffered a massive heart attack and
was gone into our Father’s hands before the ambulance arrived.” His voice
droned on as he started talking about my life.
I turned to the man next to me, “I’m dead?”
He nodded, “And I’m your mortician.”
“I don’t understand.”
He smiled, “I’m your guide to the other
side. This is normal to be attending your service... let’s stay awhile. It’s
usually fun to find out what people think of you when you’re not around.” He handed
me a letter, “Open it.”
I pulled it open slowly and read the
contents:
'Dear Cecilly,
Yes, you are dead. Yes this is your funeral.
No, this is nothing to be afraid of, and don’t worry, we’re going to be good
friends. I am somebody you knew in life.
Sincerely,
Your Mortician.'
Time went on a bit of a blur really. I
couldn’t keep track of anything – the past and the present were starting to
melt together in a dizzying kind of bubble. I didn’t like it. But I knew it was
time to leave, time to find out who this mortician man was soon.
One day, I found myself in my house and it
was empty. There was no furniture in it. No carpet, no paint, no light and no
life... it was time to move on. The mortician arrived at my side and I took his
hand, closing my eyes against a blinding light, “You said I knew you.”
“And you do, Cecilly.” His voice was low and
at a whisper still, “Open your eyes.”
I did and found myself in a gorgeous garden;
one I almost didn’t recognise. It was one I hadn’t seen in over twenty years!
Looking down at my hand where his hand had been, I found it empty. The mortician
had left me alone in this paradise... without a companion.
“Where are you!” I shouted turning in a
panic as my eyes fell upon my lovely sweet husband, George. He was standing
next to the mortician, “Is it really you?”
“Oh, Cecilly... I heard you had passed and
wondered if you were going to come home.” He walked to me, holding me; his
wonderful scent bringing me home to him, “So, I began sending you the letters
to let you know it was almost time... because I know how much you love
receiving mail.”
“But why didn’t you sign it with your own
name?”
“The mortician wouldn’t let me... I didn’t
want to spook you.”
“She died before the other letters arrived.”
The mortician said, “Only one got through.”
George turned to him, “Well, I think it’s
time we enjoyed our time alone. Thank you for your services.”
The darkly-dressed man nodded, tipping his
hat a little, “If you ever need me again, just call. I am both your guides.”
My darling George turned to me, “Welcome
home, sweetheart.”
