Daughter Nature

Chapter 12-My Funeral Work

I slowly drank some tea with my much-needed blueberry pancakes that next morning. Everyone around me was working on the funeral for my mother. I was simply on a breakfast break.

Trina and Miss Crystal have been working nonstop since last night. If they were tired, they didn't show it. Trina was figuring out the position of some black ribbons being strung up in the ballroom. Miss Crystal had been working with some other seamstresses on our gowns.

The ballroom was crowded and bustling with activity. Everyone was doing something. Of course, they were all running different errands for Trina, who was discussing a punch recipe with the cooks.

I admired Trina--she was able to manage and stay on top of everything that was going on. In times like these, her patience seemed to have no limit. I would have burst from the stress and the pressure within seconds if I had her job.

I finished my breakfast, took my plate into the kitchen, and set it in the sink. I was wearing a black shirt, black skinny jeans, some tall black sneakers, and my green hair was in a high braid. If you couldn't tell, I had started mourning my mother earlier than anyone else.

I jogged into the busy ballroom to check on Trina. When I got there, she had finished her talk with the cooks and had proceeded to explain to the servants her ideas for invitations.

I looked to my right, and saw bark guards draping big, black ribbons by the windows. A servant girl with pink skin and orange-cream colored hair was positioning black roses as center pieces for every table. A transparent man was carrying huge stacks of plates from one place to another. If you couldn't tell already, everyone had a job, and was executing it perfectly.

I walked across the room to where Trina was standing. She was so busy, she didn't notice me until I was right beside her.

I cleared my throat to get her attention. "Got a job for me?" I asked when she turned around to look at me.

Trina gave me a small smile and said, "Not at the moment. Maybe you should go and order the coffin to be made." I nodded, and exited the bustling ballroom.

I ran up to the woodworker's shop. When I walked in, I saw an 11-year old boy at the counter. When I walked up to him, he said, "My dad's in the back. Can I, perhaps, be of assistance?"

Take it from me; he was a handsome 11-year old. His skin was the color and luster of obsidian. His eyes had no irises, pupils, or blood vessels--they looked like smooth white stones in his eye sockets. His hair was as white as snow, not too long, and not too short, standing up like he had just run his hand through it. Speaking of his hands, they were not normal hands. He had three fingers, and they weren't even fingers--more like very neatly-kept talons.

I swallowed. "Um, yeah," I said, "I need a coffin made for my mother."

"Coffin?...That can't be...I mean, you're Sky Nature..." The boy's eyes widened. "No way..."

I feel the same way, I thought. "Yeah." I said. "Can I place an order for a coffin please?"

I don't think he heard me. He had turned away from me, staring into empty space in complete shock. Finally, he looked back at me and said in a quiet voice, "Yeah. One coffin for Mother Nature. Just sign here, and you might want to talk to my dad in the back." I signed the paper, and proceeded to the back as the boy had said.

His dad was working on some sort of wooden table. He looked a lot like his son--same obsidian-like skin, same eyes, hair, everything. Of course, this man was taller and he had a small, neat beard and mustache. He was using his worn talons to screw in a, well, screw. When I entered the workshop, he looked up and gave me a big smile. It faded when I told him what I needed.

Long story short, he agreed to make me the coffin. He had the same look of shock that his son had. I didn't want to see any more sadness that day, so I turned to leave, but the man stopped me. "Look," he said, "I'm...really, really sorry for your loss." His eyes were beginning to line with tears, and so were mine.

I don't know what happened--soon, I was hugging him and crying all over again. The man's first reaction was surprise, then he wrapped his own arms around me and closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face.

His concern, and how he was comforting me--was this what having a father felt like? I had never known.

I pulled away from the hug, wiped my eyes, thanked the man, and left. But before I ran out of the door to the shop, I saw the man's son. He was mute, staring at his hands lying in his lap, shaking his head.

I felt touched at how sad he was about my mother's death. But...I had things to do. I ran out of the shop, my heart racing and my heart sobbing.

~Author's Note~

This chapter was kind of short and filler-ish.

That's all that really needs to be said.

Bye!

Oh, and by the way, the woodworker man is important. Sort of, anyway.