Funeral of a Friend
By Derek Smith
Light's shout rang out throughout the graveyard for a moment, then disappeared. It was replaced with a deafening silence that Light could not bear to hear. His face twisted into the most hateful expression imaginable as he eyed L's grave. He was so used to L being able to defend himself and stand up to anyone who talked against him, but now there was nothing. Emptiness. L was vulnerable now, he had no way of protecting himself against anything.
'Vulnerable... Against anything...' Light thought. He froze. He had been struck by the idea for the ultimate desecration of his nemesis. As fast as he could, Light began to scratch at the ground with his bare hands.
"H-hey, what're you doing?" Ryuuku asked, looking wary.
"What does it look like, Ryuuku?" Light's voice was unnervingly calm. Ryuuku did not answer, partly because he could not tell what Light was doing and partly because it sounded like a rhetorical question.
Light finally stopped when he had reached the large white box he was searching for- L's coffin. It was free from scratches and blemishes, and looked as pure as when it had been bought from the morgue five days before. Light's hands were raw and bleeding at the knuckles, but he didn't care. He bent over head-first into the grave, then lowered himself into the extra space he had dug where the coffin ended. This way he had free access to the door. With an evil smirk, he pulled as hard as he could on the handle of the coffin, and sure enough it swung open. Inside lay the 25 year old detective, who was wearing a suit as dark as midnight and clutching a single white rose in his hands. Light's smirk turned into a grin and he licked his lips.
"Perfect."
Meanwhile, Ryuuku was sitting in an apple tree near an overgrown mausoleum, greedily munching on his favourite fruit.
"Man, I wonder what Light is up to. Whatever it is it ain't pretty..." he muttered, taking another bite into the blood-red apple.