Simba goes to Mufasa's grave and reflects how he misses him. Sort of a spiritual story. I do not own the Lion King or any of its characters. I do not own the cover image. It is called "Lonely Grave" by jasperfox on devianart. All rights belong to their respectful owners.
Enjoy the story!
I walk through the dusty ground inside the gorge, taking in each step slow to take time reminiscing. This place was where my father died in the stampede, after Scar killed him.
I shook my head to remove those cruel, traumatic memories, my full, red mane shakes along with it.
As I walk through the gorge, I come upon the fallen tree branch. A few blades of grass and a single white flower bloom under it, marking the place of my father's grave.
I stop and bow my head at the front of the burial place, sorrow filling my head as I remember the times we had together. As a young cub I idolized my father, always trying to be with him, holding on every word of his teachings, cherishing the times we had together. Even when I had disobeyed him, like when I took Nala to the Elephant Graveyard, dad was always there to save me. He kept me safe and only disciplined me when it was necessary. I love him so much. And how loved me back, so much that he was willing to die for me. That is what happened.
The day he died will forever haunt me.
I was tricked into going into the gorge by my uncle Scar. He lied to me and said that dad had a wonderful surprise for me. I believed it. I was told to wait until he came back. I had been alone then when I felt the ground vibrate and the pebbles shake near my paws.
I had turned to see the entire herd of wildebeest stampeding right toward me! I ran as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn't get trampled. The tree branch had still been intact that day so I climbed up it, trying to get away from the stampede. But the branch sagged and swayed under my weight and the wildebeest kept bumping into the trunk.
I saw Zazu appear before me and he told me my father was on the way. My father and uncle had appeared over the rock, just as my grip began to waver. My father jumped into the stampede, following the others as they went in my direction, just as the branch I was on broke. I flew over the stampede, but my father caught me and raced through the stampede to bring me safety.
He dropped me once before re-finding me and placing me on the ledge. He tried to climb up, but a wildebeest knocked him back up. My eyes scanned for any sigh of him in the wildebeests. He leaped up onto a stone wall, clawing his way up. I ran up my own ledge to see if he was all right.
My father called out to his brother, asking him to pull him up. My uncle clawed his brother's paws. He then whispered "Long live the king" to him and threw him off the ledge. I screamed as my dad fell off the ledge and into the stampede of wildebeests.
After the last wildebeests had passed, yet the dust kicked up had not cleared up completely, I ran down into the gorge to look for my father. A sound of feet came to my ears.
"Dad," I asked, but it wasn't him. A wildebeest had gotten behind from it herd and ran past me to join up with them. It galloped near the tree branch that I was just on. I then saw my father's body there.
I ran over to him. "Dad," I asked when I got near him. He didn't respond. I tried again, trying to shake him awake. I tried pulling his ear to get him to respond, but it was no use. My father was dead. The stampede had taken his life.
"Help," I screamed, hoping someone could hear my plea. Soon, realizing it was hopeless, I began to cry. I walked back to my father's body. I crawled under his limp paw and sobbed.
Then the murderer came out from the shadows.
You know the rest, I suppose. Scar made me believe that I was responsible for my father's death. He told me to run away and never return. He sent the hyenas to finish me off, but they never did.
Those memories are still traumatic to me to this day.
I sit down at the foot of the grave and bow my head, tears flowing as I recall how my father died, and how I witnessed it all. My sorrow takes form of the tears streaming down my face. Each tear hold a bit off my sadness. I move closer to the flowering plant, letting the moisture from my face water the tiny plant. When I open my eyes again, several teardrops decorate the flowers' petals and leaves, making it appear even more fragile than it already is.
I then send a prayer up to my father.
"Dear Father,
I miss you even more now. I know you are joined with the rulers of the past, looking down on me and guiding me, but I still mourn for your death. You left a large hole in my heart, the part that held my love for you. I still remember the times we had together, bonding as father and son.
I said so many times as a cub how I was excited to become king, just like you. Now I am king, ruling the Pridelands in your place. But you still continue to lead the pride with your heavenly guidance from above.
I hope one day I will join you up in the stars, reunited with you and mom at long last. Until then I will continue to live every day to the fullest, keeping your kingly wisdom and strength at heart. I love you dad. I will wait to come meet again with you soon.
Love, your son.
It is nearing nighttime when I finish my prayer. I start to get up and go back to the pride. A wind blows around me, billowing around my mane and streaming through my fur. I turn around and look back at the broken tree.
A mist starts gathering around my father's grave. It starts to take form of a face and then a body. The face is the one I have known since I was a cub. A smile appears on the mist figure's face. It's my father!
He tells me something, but I cannot hear it with my ears. It is more like his voice is in my head, like he is speaking direct into my mind.
"Well done my son. I will see you soon."
The mist dissipates and evaporates, leaving no trace of what was just seen. The wind stops blowing and fades to nothing.
My father had heard my prayer and is now looking down on me, smiling in heaven. I turn my head up into the star swished night. There are many stars seen tonight, but one shines above the rest. It is my father's star, bathing the land in its glorious light.
I feel a wave of calm and serenity pass over me. I am finally at peace. I smile at the star twinkling back at me. It truly is the most beautiful star of all.
"Thank you, father."
Little small there at the end. I hoped you liked this story. Please review. Bye now. Sincerely, v.t.7