there it is matt... C4C

7 o’clock, January 1st, 2001, England.

It’s time to set up shop, and the undertaker heads down the stairs after a long night out. It’s new years day and a mantle of peace has fallen upon the town.

7 black sacks are laid out the back for him, all of them containing what look like the bodies of robust drunkards, that were unfortunate the night of new years eve. It’s a tiring journey up the stairs, around 70 steps in between him and the upper floor.Every thrusts upwards, with the anonymous corpses slung over his shoulder makes him shudder. He makes it up with the last one and with a sigh of exhaustion he goes on about his work.

9 o’clock he starts to embalm the bodies. A podgy nose and some unshaven bristle are the stand-out features of the last of today’s unknown faces. Closing his eyes he moves towards the basin to wash his hands, the cold water reflecting off his

7 o’clock, January 2nd, 2005, England.It’s time to set up shop, but there is a note of the morgue’s door:

Closed due to owner’s decease, substitute to arrive promptly”.

And so the 7 corpses of the grubby drunkards are left by the steps to take on their rest. The people walk by, gasps ripple through the crowds as the boys and the girls play tag, amongst the bodies on the ground.

So for the time being, the ambulances with dead men will come, drop off and go, leaving the corpses to pile like dust on the floor. As the pile increments, the limbs over-flow, dispersed and sorted, into coffins they go. The burials start with the mist dropping low. It’s 7 in the morning, the ground’s laid with snow.

So the coffins were grounded forever and the crosses solemnly stood the silence, epitaphs carver down with the last minute preparatives. The signal is given and the church bells start to ring, silence falls amongst the crowds as the men, boys and children long dead are remembered, for their never ending wait. The bells slow,
starting to hold their peace.The crows rest again and the murmur amongst the crowds, starts to fill the town. Everyone walks off, mouths hang open in stupor, with the dead on their minds.

“Early bed tonight Mary, it’s a long day tomorrow”.

7 o’clock, January 3rd , 2043, England.The peace is broken with the noise of an old sedan driving up the lane, heading towards the town. No kids are playing, no workmen are swearing. The women are silent.

Stepping out of the car the substitute is surrounded. Tombstones replace the houses that once made up the town. Dust covering the old window-panes smirks at him mysteriously. He walks up to a woman, to ask her what the talk is in the town. Looking up, she shows her face. No longer does skin cover it, peeled off as time flowed of itself. The hair that was once blonde is now white, scalp
showing in patches where it simply gave up living.

“There is no talk, no longer, no more, not in this town. You were not timely enough and the bodies piled up, the children played amongst them, we watched them slowly rot. And now you dare to come over and talk to me? My father is gone, my brother is gone, my son is gone, all the men are gone, and the women we rot!”

“It’s 5 past 7 o’clock. The time to bring corpses upstairs. We are 70 in number, you are none but one. Run, good undertaker.


Last edited by confusius at Oct 27, 2007,
I'll get to this in the next couple days, for now, I'll say I like the ending.