Me: It's been a while since I've done a one shot; I needed to. So here you are, a new one shot. Charlie: ((sighs)) She didn't need to, but she had to any 'cause she's a psycho. Me: ((tosses her shoe at him)) Quiet you! Charlie: Did I mention she's holding me hostage? Me: I said quiet! Charlie: The fact that she's focusing on poetry, Todd and Neil lately has been getting on the nerves, know what I mean? Me: I have duct tape.

A Fitting Epithet

How does one leave an
eternal message;
one etched
forever
in stone upon a grave?

What do you say,
to those who you left?
What can you offer
in silent reprise
of your actions?

Do you tell them
Miss me not for
I have left for a better place?
Or
That I shall miss you all?

Should you say
I never meant you this pain?
Or
Forgive me, I know not
what I have done?

What is there to say
when there are no words
that you can speak?
When earth has swallowed
you, whole.

How can you search
when you are gone
for that fitting
epithet?

Cold wind and snow ripped at the assembled masses. The masses were merely the boys of Welton Academy, the administrators of said school, a few parents and the parents of Neil Perry. They stood in the storm, tears freezing before they fell to the icy earth, awaiting the lowering of a frosty white coffin.

Todd Anderson gnawed at his lip in his place in line for true final respects. He wanted to cry, but the warm tears wouldn't come and the wind was only pulling more heat from him making him as distant and as cold the snow itself. His friends were somewhere in the mess of mourners, waiting for their turn. He knew they had pushed him in front because he'd been closest to the deceased, but now he wanted nothing more that to fall back on them for moral support. He was alone, utterly alone for this.

At the wake, he'd been fine, it had almost been over and there was barely anyone there. But here…here there were people all around him…what if…what if he couldn't do this? Todd twisted the stem of the rose he'd been handed in his gloved hands, the thorns penetrating the leather. He'd been through enough torture for the day, hadn't he? He'd had to be a pallbearer, wasn't that enough? Would anyone care if he vomited like he felt he was going to? Would anyone listen if he had to break down, cry and hide?

Quavering, it was his turn. He stepped up and kneeled before the coffin, gently brushing the light powder from it. A girl he assumed to be Neil's cousin kneeled beside him, placing her own rose on the lid. He looked at her face and her eyes met his own in solemn exchange. Then her eyes watered and she looked away.

"I know…the one with…the beret, he said you were his best friend…did he say anything to you before…you know." She asked softly. Todd was taken aback in slight; amazed that she was even asking such a question.

"No." he answered. The girl looked away and nodded. "Thank you…I just heard them discussing…what to put on the tombstone."

Todd looked directly at the coffin. "Oh."

Neil's cousin shuddered. "Can you help me up?"

Being gentlemanly, helped her to her feet and was surprised when she hugged him tight. "Oh god…I need to, I'm sorry…it's just such an impulse…I need to go."

Todd nodded and watched her black jacket disappear in the crowd. He moved on and glanced at the spot where the tombstone would rest. What final words would Neil be given? His father would never do him justice and it certainly wasn't his place to say anything about that.

o-o-o

It was early spring when Todd got wind of the tombstone being erected on the grave. It wouldn't take much, he thought, to sneak out. After all, the graveyard was adjacent to Welton. And it didn't take much.

He was off into the night, finding himself braver than he thought, dodging branched and stumbling in roots. Soon the iron fence loomed in front of him and he scaled it, searching rows for where he'd been for the burial. He found it after twenty minutes of confusion.

Holding up his flashlight the words, "Neil Perry, born 1942, died1959" peered back at him from the gray marble. Todd set down the flashlight and searched his pockets for his jack knife. He tried to scratch the marble to put on a more fitting epithet, but the knife made no difference. There was rustle behind him; he spun on his heels.

Neil's cousin stepped hesitantly from a bush. "I see you don't like it either."

"No." he went back to trying to put different words in.

"Try this." She drew out a small, fine chisel and tossed it to him. Todd picked up the tool in wonderment and glanced back at the girl in question. She looked blankly back at him. "He deserves better than born and died."

"Yeah." Todd turned back to the headstone. "He does."

"What…" she paused, "What were you going to put."

Todd glanced back at her. "Friend, romantic, actor, Poet. He will be missed."

"Can you add cousin? And 'He is loved'?"

Todd picked up the chisel again. "Yeah."

"Thank you." She sat to watch him. About an hour later, Todd put the finishing touches on the crude carving that now marred the shiny marble. He traced the cold surface again, feeling slightly better about it. Neil's cousin had fallen asleep and he prodded her gently with his foot to get her up. She woke with a yelp and he was forced to cover her mouth as she realized where she was. She took her chisel and disappeared again, her black clothes blending smoothly with the still thick night.

Todd paused before heading back in his own direction for the school, glancing once more at the stone.

Neil Perry, born 1942, died 1959, a friend, romantic, Poet and cousin. He is loved and missed.

Todd nodded silently, a fitting epithet.

Me: There we are! A new one shot. I don't know where it came from, but it came to me and so I hand it to you. Charlie: Mphft gr phft! Me: ((smiles)) I duct taped his mouth shut, nice huh?