Undertaker x Reader (Short Story)
The faintest sound of rain pouring from the sky could be heard echoing throughout the dimly lit shop. A soft melody played from the phonautograph sitting in the corner. My nose was tickled by the smell of Arsenic and Formaldehyde combined with the exquisite sting of death. As my partner and I studied the cadaver that was placed on the wooden table in front of us, I stood by his side. He traced his long, bony fingers along the arm of the deceased woman, gently caressing her lifeless hand. All the youth in her round face faded away leaving a shell of her past self in its wake. My partner grabbed the scalpel on the cart beside him and made a small incision along her jugular vein and carotid artery. A trickle of blood poured from her neck, streaming down the table. The blood was dark, almost like mud.
A ring, coming from the opening of the shop's door, struck my ear. I excused myself, leaving my partner to continue the embalming process. I walked up the rickety stairs, the boards creaking with every step and entered the foyer of the shop. I saw a fragile, pallid woman standing in the entry way. She had a photograph clutched in her fingers. She was dripping from the rain.
"Greetings, how may I be of service to you?" I inquired, beckoning the customer to approach my desk. I motioned for her to take a seat and she complied.
"Please, my son just passed away," she explains, sliding the photograph to me. I saw a small boy with a happy smile encased in the picture, trapped forever within its paper walls. "I've never had to plan a funeral before. I beg of you, please help me."
I smile warmly at the woman, attempting to ease her pain and suffering.
"You needn't worry about a thing. I will handle all the preparations. I need but only a few bits of information before we proceed, if you'll be so kind as to provide it." I place a registry book on the desk, turning to a blank page, and pressing the tip of my fountain pen to the decaying paper.
"Please tell me your son's name, age, and date of birth."
"His name was Tommy. He's six years old and was born April 17th, 1874," she says with a shaky voice.
"Thank you," I said. "What kind of flowers would you like at his funeral? We offer a wide selection such as Roses, Lilies, Carnations, Tulips, and Poppy."
"What would you recommend?"
"While Lilies are the more popular option, for your son, I recommend Yellow Tulips. He seemed like a very happy boy, no?" The woman nods her head, tears in her eyes.
"He was the happiest little boy I had ever met."
I write down all the details of the funeral as well as details about the deceased. I close the registry and slide it back to its position on the shelf behind me. The woman dabs her eyes with a white handkerchief, drying any tears that escaped and stood from her chair.
"We will send you a telegram when all the preparations have been made, then we can discuss a date." I lead the woman to the door, resting my hand on the small of her back.
"Thank you." I nod as she leaves, then I close the door behind her. Despite it being a vital part of my job, the loss of a child is not one that is easy to bare. I may not have children of my own, but I can imagine the immense pain that woman must be going through.
"It's a shame," a raspy voice echoed. I turn my head around to see my partner leaning against the wall. He was covered in a black robe, his normal attire. He held the photograph of the boy in his hands. "I'm certain he would have grown to be a fine young man," he continued.
I walked to him, my hands resting beside me. My companion, Adrian, placed the picture back on the desk and twirled a strand of his silver hair around his long, black nail. His bangs, which were usually covering his eyes, were pushed to the side, allowing his emerald eyes to shine through.
"I couldn't agree more. What a tragedy it is to lose one's child..." Adrian places his cold hand on my shoulder, a smile on his face.
"It's a beautiful day for tragedy is it not? Come, let us return to our work. We still have guests to finish, hehe~"
When we had returned to the morgue, located just below the shop, we continued to embalm the remaining "guests" we had. I made a note of the date and time that each corpse was embalmed.
Adrian dusted his hands on the side of his thighs and crossed his arms. We heard the chime of the grandfather clock signaling that our workday was over. We gathered our personal belongings and locked the shop, leaving it for the night. The streets of London were busy, even in the lateness of the day. Vendors selling goods and the homeless begging for any shillings someone was willing to offer. The smell of sewage and human feces wafted through our noses, but at this point we were all too acquainted with its rottenness. Adrian gently grasped my hand as we walked through the swarm of people. I followed closely behind my husband, making sure not to take my eyes off him.
After a few minutes, we were able to free ourselves from the mob and journeyed on our own down the streets leading to our home. We didn't say much. All we needed was to enjoy each other's company. When we reached our home, Adrian held the door open, and I stepped inside. We hung our coats on the rack and proceeded into the living room. I seated myself in a chair facing the window and allowed my body to compress. I sighed in pleasure for the moment of leisure. Adrian crouched beside me, caressing my hand, and planting a gentle kiss on my knuckles. He rested his head on my shoulder while I ran my fingers through his soft hair. The musky scent of his cologne still lingered on his body.
"Is something the matter, dearest?" I questioned him.
"No, love, everything is perfect," he reassured me. "We had better start making dinner before it gets too late. I purchased some beef a day or so ago. The lovely man told me if it stays in the brine its fresh for a week. Perhaps we could make a steak pie." Adrian lifts his head and runs a finger under my chin. We lock eyes for a moment, and he kisses me softly on the lips. We parted and he held out his hand.
"Come, m'lady, we have much to do, hehe~" I take his hand and we walk to the kitchen. "Didn't you tell me your mother made this recipe for you as a child, my dear?" I nod my head.
"Indeed. Some of my fondest memories revolve around this dish," I explain while searching for the recipe. When I found it, I read over the ingredients: 3 tbsp Sunflower Oil; 1kg steak, diced; 2 onioned, roughly chopped; 3tbsp plain flower; 1tbsp tomato paste; 375g sheet of puff pastry; and 1 egg yolk, beaten.
Adrian and I worked swiftly to make our dinner. Thankfully, it didn't take too long, and we were ready to eat about three hours later. We took our seats at the table and enjoyed our dinner together while discussing some of the upcoming events at work.
"What a wonderful meal. Thank you, my love," he said with a smile. I put my fork down and stood from my seat, collecting our empty dishes in the sink. I was about to wash the dishes when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. Adrian placed his chin on my shoulder, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Let's go to bed. Those pesky dishes can wait until later. I want you all to myself." He takes my hands and leads me upstairs. When we get to our bedroom, I change into my nightwear, he does the same, and slip into bed. Adrian pulls me close putting his arm around my back while I rest my head on his chest. He kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I feel myself begin to drift into a deep slumber.
"Sleep well, darling. I am here always if you need me. I love you."
"I love you too..."
WORD COUNT: 1,453
