Author's Note: This is not perfect. I didn't have much time to outline or draft or to edit. I wrote it in just a few hours. The story is also short.
In memory of Stanley Martin "Stan Lee" Lieber
December 28, 1922 – November 12, 2018
Obituary... died November 12th…was ninety-five years old… married for sixty nine years… a writer and artist…
A procession of cars filled every inch of the cemetery. The air was cold and brisk. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot sliced through the quiet. A virtual sea of people filled the cemetery.
The crowd trickled in slow and steady. Attendees talked softly, recalling the man they all knew so well. The crowd came to congregate around a simple open burial plot, a tombstone, and casket. The family of the deceased at the front with the others behind them.
A man with black hair and goatee streaked with grey, hands shaking and a damaged watch on his wrist was near the front. A man with dark hair peppered with grey, glasses, and dressed in worn suit with a tinge of green in the eyes stood next to him. A man of strong stature and well built frame and blonde hair stood beside the two.
A young man, a teenager really, with brown hair and eyes whose face was streaked with tears, an older woman with dark brown hair by his side were close to the trio. Next to them, a man with dark hair and olive complexion in a high end suit and sunglasses stood with a redhead woman by his side.
A group of four stood together, three men and a woman, behind the teenager, the woman, and the couple. One of the men had dark hair with greying temples and his arm wrapped around a woman with blonde hair. A second man with similarities in features to the woman stood on her other side. Finally, a man, or thing, appearing to be made of rock stood by the young man.
A man with red tinted glasses and a cane by his side stood by the edge of the crowd. His head was tilted to the ground but he seemed aware of everything happening. Beside him was a man of African descent dressed in a fine suit, the sunlight catching on his unique necklace, and a woman also of African descent by his side, their hands interlocked. A man with mousy brown hair stood by them a somber look on his face which seemed out of place on him.
To the side, near the edge of the large group was a smaller group. A man in a wheelchair. A man of blue skin and fur. A woman with fiery red hair by a man with a wrap around visor. A woman with white hair. A man with blue skin and extensively tattooed skin. A burly of average height who seemed as if he'd been through his too many times already. A few others, younger than the rest, stood with them.
Even more spread out through the cemetery. All of them from different walks of life. All of them coming to pay their respects to one man. Cautious looks were shared between people and groups but a silent agreement seemed to be in place between everyone despite past differences. They had all come here for the same reason, the same man.
"You made our time here a better one,"
"There will never be another like him,"
"A hero in his own right,"
"We are eternally grateful to you,"
"...made the world a better place,"
One by one, people came up to the casket and said their goodbyes. Some took longer than others than others while others were quick. Tears were shed and remembrances said. After the casket was lowered, slowly the crowd departed away.
"Goodbye Stan," said one of the last attendees to leave. "You helped create a marvel of a world."
Author's Note: I decided to do something simple in honor of Stan Lee, nothing fancy.
The specific people described at the funeral mentioned are a few of the characters created by Stan Lee, most of them co-created. In order they appeared were: Doctor Strange, Bruce Banner, Thor, Peter Parker/Spider-Man (with Aunt May), Tony Stark/Iron Man (with Pepper), the Fantastic Four, Matt Murdock/Daredevil, T'Challa (with Nakia), Scott Lang/Ant-man, and the X-Men with only a few specifically mentioned.
The comments are actual words/thanks/tributes people have been saying about Stan. I thought I'd use a few of them for inspiration.
I hope at least one person on here likes this story. I did the best I could for such a short time. I ask for constructive criticism and reviews if possible, please.
Goodbye, Stan Lee. Excelsior.
-Miss Corrine