He beamed cheerfully as he awoke from his dream. He grinned from ear to ear as he got out of bed, put on his orange coat, and headed down stairs. He smiled with glee as he passed the many pictures of himself put on display around his house, ignoring all the tear-marked faces of his parents and siblings as they miserably hugged each other. Their tears laced their hands, expressing the countless hours spent wiping them away. He still smiled jovially, ignoring the agony of his family.
The weather was dismal. Fog hung in the air, covering the earth in grey. The air was bitter and cold, giving him goosebumps underneath his coat. He tightened his hood around his face and ignored the weather, smiling brilliantly.
As he went into town, the familiar faces of his townsfolk wondered all around him. They walked, focused, but he knew they had nowhere to go. They gazed before them with unfeeling expressions upon their faces, their posture bored and uninterested. He found it quite funny, as no one seemed to be going anywhere, ever. Today, however, he did. So, he grinned with liveliness as he made his jolly way into town.
When he got to the bus stop, he stepped next to his three friends, who gazed horribly at the ground. Their eyes were full of tears, their lips quivered with sobs, and they spoke not a word – not even to each other. When the bus came, the four of them got on. He followed his melancholy friends with visible bliss to the back, where they sat together and he watched his dear friends wallow in despair. The whole bus ride to school was spent in complete silence. Not a single person who rode made a single sound; they did not even sneeze or cough. Still, he gave a toothy grin.
The school campus was no different. He and his friends got off the bus when they arrived, their demeanor not having moved a budge. He followed them through the crowd of emotionless schoolmates as quietness filled the foggy earth. All these faces were familiar, but so unfamiliar in their emptiness. He ignored them and proceeded to his class. Through his class, only his teacher spoke, and very lowly. They, too, had a very vacant demeanor. The teacher kept his expressions empty from his young students, and his young students did the same. No one smiled; no one showed any sign vibrancy, as though not such a thing existed. He did, however, he beamed brilliantly the whole class.
Even during the lunch period, things were dull. Even the usually kind, parental school chef was marked with lifelessness. Everyone stood silently in the line to get their lunch, but no one spoke, no one smiled. Everyone kept their eyes down, their demeanor dry, and their lips sealed. He found it kind of sad, as no one seemed to have a breath of life and happiness. He did, however, and he smiled ardently as he tagged along with his melancholy companions.
School was over, but no one seemed uplifted about it. In fact, he could swear his classmates grow out from their empty demeanor and instead turn grim. He saw a girl wearing a purple hat wipe a tear from their eye, and then continued going nowhere in the fog. He noticed a blonde boy bite their lip and rake their knuckles together sadly as they halted their amble to nowhere. Still, he was cheerful, and grinned as he followed his friends through the foggy town.
His friends stopped together in one of their front yards, where they sat in the grass, laced in snow, and sulked with their heads hung low. Together, they did something he could only recognise as waiting for good feelings. But, he already had good feelings, he felt nothing but elation - he didn't need to wait for them. His friends would have them soon, he just knew it. They just needed to wait. So, he sat with them, smiling brilliantly, and waited as well.
A short while passed and his friends dispersed. When they were all gone and returning to their homes, he left as well. He made his way back home through the foggy weather, watching all the blank people go by with no sense of destination. He gave them a smile, but they all gave him no acknowledgement. That didn't bother him, however, and he kept his way until he returned home, beaming with glee.
At home, his parents and siblings were dressed in their best clothes, though that wasn't much in consideration to their financial situation. Their attire was all black and formal. His mother wore a long and old, silky black dress, his father wore an aged, dirty suit to match their other son's, and their daughter wore a tired, aged thing. He, however, bothered not dressing in formal garb, and followed his family into the truck in his orange jacket. The fog was still clouding the way, and his family was still tear-streaked and miserable. He wasn't, however, and he grinned at them happily as they got on in silence.
Together, they all went to the only graveyard in South Park, where his friends and their families collected quietly. He found all of his friends, even the girl in the purple hat and the blonde boy and other, accompanied by their families. It was like a party, he thought, except much quieter. Everyone hung their heads low and gazed vacantly at their laps, dressed in black, as they sat in chairs in the grass. They all faced an empty hole surrounded by bouquets of sad, wilting flowers. Beside the hole there was a picture of him, a child, smiling. It was all so hard to see in the dense fog, but no one seemed to mind, therefore neither did he. He followed his family to the front row of chairs, where only four seats sat for them. His two siblings and parents sat in the seats quietly, leaving him to stand. He didn't mind, however, and stood, waiting, smiling with glee.
A grown, aging man dressed in a black shirt and slacks stepped up front and gave a long, toneless speech. Their face was empty, and so were their words. He wasn't listening, instead only waited. Everyone else cried very silently, but he didn't. He was still happy. So he kept on smiling in silence.
When the man was done talking, one by one, a handful of his friends came and made their speeches. They too, talked in empty words with empty faces. They spoke in ways that made him wonder if they even meant what they were saying, if they were even saying anything at all. He didn't know, for he wasn't listening – only waiting. They gave short speeches before sitting back down, allowing the others to go up and give their short speeches. After a long period of time, no more speeches were given, and they only mourned, and, one by one, they began to leave. Eventually, even his family was gone, and he was alone. As the last car left, driving off through the nightly fog, he frowned with desolation.
After a long, isolated moment, he went over to the hole. It had been filled up and decorated with a square stone at its head. He investigated the stone, reading its carved text as he sat upon the dirt that filled the hole.
" Here lies Kenny McCormick
Gone but not forgotten
Taken too young from our loving arms
1989 – 1999 "
Silently, he reread the text in his head over and over. He felt a tear roll coldly down his cheek, followed by another, and another, and soon he was crying in quiet sobs over the slab of stone. He found it kind of funny. There he was, sitting upon his own grave after having witnessed his own funeral. What a mad world he'd stepped into.
He wiped away his tears and stood. With a deep, miserable scowl, he turned from the hole and walked away, beginning his amble to nowhere in the fog.
Then, he awoke with a start. With wide, conscious eyes, his teenage form sat up in his bed. He ran a hand through his dirt-laced hair as he gazed all around his bedroom. It was messy, but cleaner than it was in his childhood days. It was also very bright; the sun's morning rays poured in through the window with enthusiasm. He touched the warmth of the window's glass, peaking out with great curiosity. It was clear as any June day, quite the opposite of his dream's.
Footsteps pattered loudly down his small house's hallway until they stopped outside his bedroom door. Someone knocked, but came in before he could say a thing.
"Happy birthday, Kenny!" said his sister, a great smile upon her dirty face.
He sputtered, but then gave her a wide, toothy grin and said, "Thank you, Karen!"
She came happily, gently embracing her barely older brother. When she tore away to leave him to dress, she gazed back to him, smiling a much smaller smile and saying it again, "Happy birthday." She then left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
He frowned in his solitude. Actually, it was rather sad, for that was the best dream he'd ever had. What a mad world he'd woken up to…