The Night Monkey

1.3 With Great Power

The funeral was held the next Saturday. It was a small, quaint service filled with mournful tears and smiles from relived memories. Per Hugh's request, everyone present wore colorful clothing to represent the joy and creativity of life rather than the traditionally dark clothes of a funeral.

At last, Y/N's grandfather was laid to rest in a quiet corner of the cemetery. He had succumbed to stomach cancer, of which he kept secret in fear of bothering his family and becoming a burden. He did not suffer in silence, but rather welcomed death as an old friend he hoped he wouldn't see so soon, but understanding of his time.

On his headstone was written "Hubert Lawrence L/N. Beloved father, son, husband, and story teller." He left behind a small inheritance given to his family. Y/N and Grant inherited his apartment for when they were ready to move out alongside a few smaller items of significance. 

The L/Ns all said their mournful goodbyes as the casket was lowered into the ground. David wept sorrowfully for his father. Y/N and Grant stood beside one another, Y/N holding onto his younger brother.

After a bit, Y/N had to separate himself from the rest. Nobody went after him, letting him mourn alone. The young man walked down the hill and stopped. He fell on his behind and sat down in the grass. Tears streamed out of his red colored eyes. He grabbed a rock, crushing it in his hand under his strength.

Y/N thought back on  the memories he had with his grandpa. The checkers games they'd play, now unfinished. The funny stories and pranks they'd share. The wise words of guidance passed down through generations.

Y/N slammed his fist into the ground, forming a decently sized hole in the bare dirt. He wiped off his hand and tried to calm down. Even he knew his newfound strength would be dangerous if left unleashed in his current state.

After a little while, the young man managed to calm himself down. He let his eyes wonder, looking over the hills and greenery of the cemetery. He stopped when his eyes landed on another procession. People and presumed family members all gathered around an open casket before it was closed.

Y/N stood up to get a better look at the other funeral. He noticed something about the girl in the casket. She was young, probably no older than himself. As a worker walked by, Y/N stopped him to ask about the other funeral.

Y/N: Excuse me, sir. I don't mean to intrude, but who's that group over there?

The old worker looked over at the procession Y/N was pointing towards. His bushy eyebrows sunk with sympathy and sadness.

Worker: Those poor parents are forced to bury their only child. 

Y/N looked over, seeing who he presumed to be the deceased girl's parents standing over her body, tears falling from their red faces.

Worker: Poor girl. Found herself standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shot by some insane bastard just trying to make a quick buck. She was too young.

Y/N looked back at the funeral with immense sadness and sympathy. Things started to flow through his head, perceptions he'd never considered before. Just like him, this girl's family were grief stricken by the sudden loss of a beloved family member.

However, there was a fundamental difference in their mourning. Despite his sudden passing, Hugh's life had been full. He had gotten to live a long, happy life filled with wonderful experiences. But this girl, she didn't get to experience any of that. She was still young, taken not by an fatal illness, but by a quick gunshot. A faint cry in the night and she was no more.

Worker: No parent should ever have to bury their child.

Y/N nodded. He stood there as the worker continued on his way. The young man just stared into oblivion, lost in thought. Soon, his mother walked over to him. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder.