Rigor Mortis

Chapter Two: The Wake

I stood outside, in the foyer of the church, waiting for my parents to emerge from the chapel. Besides the good priest Patsy, my parents and I were the only ones to attend Grandmother's wake. I had not wanted to go, but I could not refuse my father after the horrible act I had committed ...somehow. It was once again an unspoken but undeniable belief, that I had caused her to die. I was surprised when they had wanted to take me to the wake; surprised that they could recover from their repulsion to take me anywhere. Still, I was expected to be quiet through the whole affair. I desperately wanted to ask my mother about the ludicrous and terrible things of which my grandmother had spoken but it seemed she was constantly on the verge of tears. If I caused her to break down in some way, I knew my father would be even more furious with me.

Finally, the oaken door opened and out came my parents, looking baleful as ever. I rose to leave with them when my father shook his head.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to her?" he asked angrily.

Honestly, I didn't. The thought of being alone with an unburied corpse frightened me. I didn't say anything, however. I just nodded and dragged my feet along until I was in the chapel. There lay the casket, white and gleaming in front of the altar. For a chapel, it was rather small and even standing by the doors, I felt I was too close to the body. Nervously I gulped and cautiously stepped closer. It was my overactive imagination, I knew, but I still could not dismiss the faint smell of rot surrounding the coffin like a pall, despite the braziers of incense burning to either side. I held my breath and peered inside.

Why, it merely looked as though she were sleeping! I nearly laughed at how scared I had been.

In fact, she seemed more at peace, without the constant pain of old age to trouble her. Her face was placid and her eyelids hid her cloudy cruel eyes. Her bony hands were crossed over her chest and she seemed to be reposing nicely. I wiped my brow, now more at ease and tried to compose a proper goodbye for my grandmother.

"Well, Grandmother, here we are..." I began. "I never really knew you but I'm sorry you had to go like this...I didn't mean to frighten you. Mother is very upset so I guess that means she loved you very much. Father is mad at me, but I suspect he is also glad because now he doesn't have to tiptoe around you on certain subjects." Then I gasped. What a horrible thing for me to say!

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean that!" I said quickly. "It's just that...well...you were kind of scary. Always cursing and pointing and shouting. I don't think you were that senile...you probably played it up!" I realized that I had grown angry and I quieted my voice.

"You hated me and I don't know why. Your story was a cruel thing to tell me, you know, and Father thinks I frightened you to your death. I didn't! You were just really really old! That's all! Just old! I hate him! And I hate you!"

I was trembling with frustration and emotion, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I gulped them back and shook my head. Why was I so angry? Why was I behaving like this? There really was something wrong with me...

"I'm sorry all this had to happen...rest in peace..." I finally muttered. In a brave gesture, I bent and patted her cold stiff hand. I was thinking about how strange it must be to get old. How strange and how lonely...I didn't want to die like she had.

I then heard a slight sound, like wind whistling through a tiny crack in a window. I looked around for the source of the draft, but all the windows were tightly sealed. I decided to dismiss it and I went to leave the chapel...when I heard a low agonized moan. Quickly, I turned to face the casket and looked inside only to see milky white eyes staring up at me. I screamed and ran from the room

"Mother! Father! Something is wrong with Grandmother!" I screamed at them. Furiously, my father stood up and shook me. My mother wailed loudly into a fresh batch of tears.

"What are you doing?" Father yelled into my face. "Don't you see that we are distraught enough as it is? We don't need any of your macabre fantasy to make this more gruesome than it is!"

"B...but I heard her breathe and then she moaned and her eyes...her eyes were open!" I replied. At this, Mother swooned and Father went to fetch water for her, while I stared on dumbly. Lying on the pew, she motioned for me to come closer. I obliged, fearing that I might have been the cause of her condition.

"My son, it is a phenomenon of nature that you saw. It is called by the monks and scholars 'rigor mortis'. Excess gas escapes the cadaver and makes it seem like they had one last breath to give. Sometimes the muscles contract when they start to decompose and the eyes open. It is scary, indeed, but it is natural." she explained.

"Is that what's wrong with me?" I asked, suddenly understanding.

"What?"

"You couldn't bury me because of rigor mortis. I'm not really alive, I just look like it. Is that what's wrong with me?"

"Tanius, what are you going on about?" she asked, horrified and using her pet name for me.

"Grandmother told me. I was stillborn."

She sat up so suddenly that I nearly fell. She hissed and seemed to stare into the wall behind me. "Don't you listen to anything that old witch had to say! It's lies, all of it! Patsy doesn't know anything either! He's always in his cups, a fine way for a priest to be!"

I heard my father approaching from behind me. He asked her to be calm and to lie back down. She did, and drank of the cup he handed her. Then he turned to me.

"First you scare your grandmother into her death and then you nearly do the same to your mother. What is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"Don't yell at him so!" my mother hissed. "Go and check on Mother, would you? Tanius merely was frightened by the rigor mortis." Grumbling, he stormed into the chapel.

My mother and I were silent. She was trying to catch her breath and I was trying not to tremble so much. I nearly jumped when she began to tentatively play with my hair. It was the first time she had touched me in years. The sensation was strange, but not unwelcome.

"I love you Mortanius." she nearly sobbed. Worried, I turned to face her. She was crying again but she was smiling too.

"I love you too Mother..." I muttered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I know this has been taxing for all of us. We'll go home soon."

We sat like that, like everything was normal, but I knew it wasn't. That undercurrent that had permeated my entire life threatened to break and drive me mad...and that's when we heard the scream.

It came high and shrill, like a girl's, from the chapel and it undulated into a series of senseless moans.

I wanted to run and hide but my mother's fainted form told me that I had to go and check on it. I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it. I heard rustling and a wet squelching sound. What was my father doing? Shaking, I opened the door...

What I saw will forever me etched in my memory. My father, bloody and gasping, lay huddled in a corner of the chapel while the body of my grandmother stood over him, slavering and moaning, holding her prize. I noticed that a large bit of his cheek was gone and she was devouring it greedily. My father screamed again and she bent down, sinking her teeth into his face. That was when she noticed me...her dead eyes burned with a stygian furor and quicker than I could believe, she leapt at me. I turned and ran, slamming the door behind me. I could barely hold it shut as she pounded and clawed at it, trying to get at me. And always that horrible moaning! I saw that Mother was still unconscious...and I saw that the door was beginning to splinter.

"Stop it! Please Grandmother, just stop it! It's just rigor mortis! Just go back to being dead!"

And she did...at the sound of my voice, I heard her slump against the door. I never even checked to see if my father was still alive...I never checked on my mother...I only ran as fast as I could from that place.