You're Invited!
Come see the wedding of Christopher Rose & John Carls
Where: First Christian Chapel
When: June 16 at 12:30
Why: Witness of the union of two families.
The date of the invitation is a month from now, that is more than enough time to get all of us home. I asked James our estimated time of arrival, and, after explaining something about how far a healthy human can travel on foot based on climate, temperature, and some other stuff, he said we should get in at least two weeks. I smiled to myself thinking about seeing my parents' faces.
While deep in thought, I was pulled out of my head by the sound of a flute. I looked over to see James holding the instrument to his lips, lightly and carefully moving his fingers. While he played, everyone was silently listening to the calming tune. 'The Rose That Wilts' I thought. 'The Rose That Wilts' is an old children's lullaby. The music is nice, but the words always concern me.
Wolves asleep amidst the trees
Birds are swaying in the breeze
Children sleep so peacefully,
Asleep for all of eternity
And while the balance slightly tilts,
The children stand with the rose that wilts.
Softly singing birds are still
The children bend to the Fate's will
Silently they wait
Waiting for the rose that wilts
And while wait in the clam breeze,
Heart-broken parents weep and wheeze
They sit and mourn about their loss,
As they sleep they turn and toss
Acutely aware what their child has done,
They, too, except the rose that wilts
The Rose That Wilts
My mother used to sing me that song when I couldn't sleep. I always fell asleep after she was done. The song was said to be written by a grieving mother who lost her child after they went into cardiac arrest in their sleep. A year after the song was released, the mother was found dead in her home, hanging from the second floor railing with an extension cord wrapped around her throat. M.E.s later said that, due to her body mass and abrupt jerk, her C-3 and C-4 vertebrae were broken.
Wait a minute---The vertebrae are in the back of the neck. The cord should have snapped her windpipe.
"James," I started. He looked at me, putting his flute in his lap.
"Yeah, Camila?" He asked.
"How would C-3 and C-4 vertebrae be broken?" I asked, silently hoping he wouldn't think I was planning on doing something. His pupils turned blue and he started talking.
"Well, you would have a hand on the jaw and opposite side of the head, then, with as much force as possible, you would have to push the jaw and upper head in opposite directions. This act would cause the vertebrae in the neck to break." He told me. His pupils turned back to normal and he asked, "Why?"
"Well, do you remember the lady that supposedly hung herself?" I asked him.
"Yeah, what about her?" He asked.
"Her C-3 and C-4 vertebrae were broken. If she did hang herself with that cord, wouldn't her windpipe have been broken?"
"Oh man, you're right. Wait a minute, are you implying that she was murdered and the suicide was staged?" He inquired with his pupils that blue color.
"Precisely." I answered.
"So, not only are we running hundreds of miles to your home town, but now there is a killer we need to be aware of?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dun, dun, dun. bye.
YOU ARE READING
short stories
General Fictiona collection of my stories that I put on hold or forgot about. Like most of my books, I do take requests.
