A Series of One-Shots

More Than a Name [write your own Epitaph day]

More Than a Name

“What do you want to be remembered as?” his teacher had asked the class. She had taken a moment to pause, looking each one of her students in the eye. “Today we’ll be talking about epitaphs.”

A girl in the back of the class blurted, “What’s an epitaph?”

The teacher smiled. “It’s the words that are put on your tombstone to show people what you meant to others. They’re usually things like, “Beloved Mother, Daughter, Friend,” or quotes or bible passages.” She smiled as nearly every student relaxed in understanding.

Except Isaiah. The blue-eyed boy didn’t relax. Instead he raised his hand from where he sat in the middle of the class room. The teacher nodded at him in acknowledgement and he began, “Why are we talking about these?”

“Because we’ll be writing our own!” She stood up and clapped excitedly. “Everyone is going to write their own epitaphs and present them to the class. They have to be at least five words or three lines.”

The students in the class began to chatter excitedly.

Isaiah looked around forlornly then slowly raised his hand again. “What if you don’t want to be remembered?”

The teacher paused, taking a moment to consider his question. “Then put into words why you wouldn’t want to be remembered.”

Nearly six years later, Isaiah still thought back on that day. It had been an innocent assignment from his ninth grade English teacher, yet it had weighed heavily on his mind throughout the years. In the end, he hadn’t been able to put what he wanted into words and had gone with a generic answer.

Beloved son, Thinker, Cat Owner

He wished he could’ve put it into words, the need he felt to not be remembered. It was a desire not many had. Who just wanted to be forgotten? Never leave their mark on the world? Just die and be dead in the minds of others, especially those he didn’t know. That was what he wanted. He didn’t care to be remembered as a beloved father or son. He didn’t want to be a thinker or a cat owner. He wanted to be unknown.

Just a name carved into a stone.

“Isaiah Croft, Miss Pynes will see you now.”

Isaiah stood, buttoning the top button of his blazer as he did. He took a deep breath, brushed a hand through his mahogany colored hair, making it stand up slightly in the front, and cracked his neck.

In the years he’d been at Pynes International, he hadn’t been called into the CEO’s office once. He was merely a marketing supervisor. He’d graduated college with a degree in international business and foreign relations. Somehow though, he’d ended up with a job that was not quite everything he’d hoped for. Isaiah had wanted to travel and see the world. He’d grown up in a sheltered home with a thirst for knowledge of the outside world.

Maybe one day I’ll have that, he thought, when I’m in a better place financially.

Isaiah shook the empty promises to himself out of his head and walked calmly into the office, back straight and head held high, exuding an air of confidence. He looked powerful on the outside, though inside he was just tired.

“Mr. Croft,” Miss Pynes greeted, reaching out to firmly shake his hand. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

Miss Pynes was an elegant woman with dark hair drawn up into a bun and fierce blue eyes. She wore a light-blue polka-dotted blouse that exposed a slight amount of cleavage with a navy blazer over it. At the tips of her slender fingers were nicely manicured, gold-colored nails.