The day was dim and the weather gloomy. The storm, that had passed different towns and cities, was slowly reaching the silent crowd.
People were seen rushing to their homes to seek shelter from the storm passing by. Others were seen staring, through the windows, at the valley, were the storm would apparently hit worst.
The hills had a murky look about them and the grass seemed lifeless.
Perfect day for a funeral.
The dark, grey clouds filled with rain, waiting to break free, hung over the silent crowd. A bright, white bolt that hit the ground, gave some light to the dark cobblestone path they walked upon. The lightning was followed up by the roaring sound of thunder. The air, that was damp and chilly, made them shiver as they walked by. The wind rustled the dead leaves on the ground, any remaining leaves on the dark trees, would soon join them on the ground. The silence was almost eerie as they walked off the main road, down a twisting path. The distinctive sound of feet hitting gravel could be heard a mile away. The hill, once beautiful, now looked barren, dark and lonely. The entire setting was haunting, people were almost scared to breathe, in fear of breaking the silence. They walked into a wide clearing. In the middle was a deep hole. A particularly strong gust of wind made them grip their black coats tighter. The men carried the coffin to the middle and lowered it gently. As the men walked back to the crowd, Heaven let loose a few drops of rain. They gathered in a tight semi-circle, all silently praying for the storm to pass on and willing this to be over quickly. Someone coughed lightly, a howling wolf was heard in the nearby forest, the animals could be heard scurrying away in fear as the ominous thunder was heard louder than before, and at long last a man, stood directly in front of the coffin, cleared his throat.
It had begun.
The throng shivered as the man started speaking, his tone grave, solemn and pained as he spoke of his loss. The lines on his fore-head more pronounced when he frowned, his eyes, small filled with tears, his head once filled with dark, thick hair was now bald with a few patches of thin white hair, here and there. Known for his strong posture, the crowd of mourners were shocked at how fragile and vulnerable he looked. The once proud man stood small. However his voice did not waver once as he spoke of his terrible loss.
He paused near the end of his monologue and gave them all a piercing stare, his gaze landed on one particular man in the crowd. The following words would be etched into everyones minds, for years to come;
"A liar may run from the truth, but even he one day, shall be forced to face the truth."
This had left the crowd slightly confused at his statement. They slowly went to pay their respects and eventually started, like seeds in the wind, dispersing back to the city, to the real world. The old man, a younger man at his side, also joined the crowd. No-one noticed a lone figure that stayed behind. Prehaps they assumed that said person would follow. Mabye they were too eager to leave the morbid atmosphere. Whatever the reason was for their tempory memory laspe was never discovered nor did it matter. The lone person, a child, wept besides the cold, grey gravestone not even noticing when a terribly loud thunderclap echoed through the empty clearing. The child was in too much pain, it had become numb. It was then Heaven opened it's flood-gates and cried with the child. The rain so desperately wanting to break free fell heavily, covering the anguished cries of the child. It was 5 hours later; police searching everywhere, the child was found hugging the gravestone tightly. As the child was rushed to hospital, the old man died of heart failure. The next morning would bring even graver news for the broken child, once discovering what happened to the once jolly, old man.
The child's once perfect world crumbled and no matter how desperately the child will want to pathetically cling onto its illusion of a perfect world, the child will have to grow up and be forced to let go.