A Bed Of Roses

Crisp Autumn leaves fall silently to the ground. The air is still, and quiet. Alone stands a grave yard, in the middle of a dry meadow. Dawn spreads her fiery skirt across the horizon, engulfing the land around her in a warm, peachy glow. But today is no reason to celebrate. Small bundles of brightly coloured feathers begin to trill in the canopy of green. But no one should be singing. Children play happily, skipping around in the park across the road. But no one should be happy. A dog runs outside of a small shaggy house and embraces the glow of the sun, whilst rolling around in a patch of evergreen grass. But nothing should be playing. Suddenly, the air goes cold, the birds stop chirping out their melodies, the dog stops having fun and sits up, intently looking at the approaching figures. Children scatter off to houses, afraid of what is coming.

Dark black suits walk so effortlessly, you would think they were gliding along the wispy blades of grass in the meadow. A sinister dark carriage pulled by midnight black horses, floats across the gravel road that winds through the cemetery. A trail of mourning people draped in thick, black material, walk broken heartedly behind the carriage. The carriage halts under a willow tree's branches. It's green foliage sways peacfully with the rythym of the wind. A group of men walk to the back of the large vehicle, and gingerly pull out a small white coffin laid with bright red and white roses. It is the only white thing-apart from underneath the men's tuxedoes-in the whole cemetery. A lady dressed in a regal, shimmering black gown ties the horses leather reigns around the willow tree's rough bark trunk, before walking back to the trail of silent mourners. Her straight dark ebony hair is draped over a tear filled eye, the crystal droplets threatening to drag her heavy mascara down her pale face at any moment. The shiny lid of the white coffin glistens with the sun's lazy rays as it is carried to the top of a small hill, where a deep trench of moist earth is waiting for it. As the coffin is laid down beside the deep hole.

An old man, face creased with tiredness, sets up a small podium, and begins to speak. He spoke of the wonderful and funny things in that person's life, recalling fond memories with great detail. One by one, people from the crowd get up to speak at the podium. Suddenly, a little boy of the age of seven, hopped up to speak. He fiddled nervously with the velvet red cloth that was hanging over the podium as he spoke of the person inside the coffin. A lady soon had to come up to collect him when he started to cry. She swept the screaming child away in her arms as he fought to get to the coffin. Cries of ' She is not gone! ' and "Let me see her!' along with screaming of pain and how much he missed her drifted through the eerily quiet cemetery, arousing futile sobs from the crowd.

Dried out leaves and dust are carried through the crowd, riding on a cold breeze. Shivers run up the spines of the people as they are chilled to the bone, not only from the wind, but also from the fear of their lost friend. A mother silently fights back tears, her heart aching painfully for her lost daughter, and best friend. The father sits cradling a soft blue teddy bear, its fur worn and patched up. Tears are soaked in its fur, riddled with memories and secrets. Finally, the time comes to close up the wound in everybodies heart, which can only be acheived by sealing the coffin into the cold, unforgiving earth, never to be seen again. A group of strong men advance slowly towards the coffin; their strong arms easily hoist it up above their heads before it is gingerly placed onto the cool, moist soil. The little boy walks up to one of the men, who happens to be his big brother, and asks, "Can we see her...just one last time?" his bright blue eyes are faded with misery, his plump cheeks dampened with tears, and his small heart brimming with grief.

" Y-yes, I suppose so." The older brother speaks in a choked voice. He hops down into the pit, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, as he opens the lid of the coffin. People rush over and peer precariously into the coffin, eager to see the person one last time. The father passes the bear to his son, feeling as if he is giving part of himself away. The bear's soft fur is pushed up against a pale arm as it is placed in the coffin. Just before they close the lid, shutting out the world for the person inside, forever burrying a kind soul in a spread of earth, they take one last look at who it is.

A delicate, slim figure of an eight year old, sleeps eternally inside. Her platinum blonde hair flows straight down to her waist. It is braided with daisies, and tucked ever so gently behind her ears. Her hair is smooth, and shiny, soft yet thick, as it plays around her slender fingers. Two amazingly blue eyes lie underneath pale eyelids that are shut, making the lashes look even longer. Plump lips sit on her little face, just under her button nose, and the complexion of her skin is pale. She truly looked the angel she is about to become.

As the lid closes, the family looks on at their lost daughter. The one who has entered an eternal sleep, never to be broken. The one who lies forever in peace, upon a bed of blood red roses.