n:
wherein we puzzle
now
Axel took his place with straight-backed resolution; sucked his ribs, curled his toes, nestled his most wicked, catty grin beside the mother in the front most pew, far before the congregation of rue, stares and blame that simply would have to be content with hating the back of his hair.
A trembling prune-man rummaged through a list of tributes and moth-chewed drudgery. Clichés spun in nameless loops, screeching out "ashes to ashes", "a debt to be paid".
Axel held his wrists.
That clergy-fuck recycled every paragraph he recited. It didn't take much to insert a new name.
Then they were allowed to move. Trudge forth in their monotone mass of carbon-colored satin to cast a vigil along the charnel.
Axel watched them look.
For most, they glared, like frozen wanderers, at wood and wax and fresh, skin oils. Some whispered sentiments, prayers. Maybe tears would leak. Nobody touched.
Assured, they'd twist their ugly faces and make to turn away.
The mum was finishing when Axel stepped up behind her.
She whipped around, her face hard stone. Ashy lips bowed a sullen downward curve above which two rotten eyes were strung. They would be something green if not for the hurt and emptiness and hatred that etched her whites so brightly. Those fists dug their nails and Axel just braced for a smack.
But she marched away, and it was, at last, Axel's turn.
:t(o) b(e) c(ontinue'd):
wouldn't you like to review? assures a faster update, it does.
expect about 9, short chapters.
aye, my latin is mangled at best, and i invite anyone, who has studied this ancient tongue, to help correct the description. what i know of musical notations, italian, spanish, and Catholic prayers does not seem to helping me any. xD