Member-only story
Once Again, I was Late for…
(A writing prompt)
…my own funeral. Yes, mine. Yes, again. The first time was a fluke. Not me being late, but me being dead.
Let me explain.
Ya see I had been in the ICU for three weeks. I had been given last rites on day two. Took me a long time to die. Those idiots couldn’t find a heartbeat and pronounced me dead at 12:14 pm.
The only problem with that was that my heart rate was really low because of the infection and fever coursing through my body. Imagine the poor doc’s face when I came to in the morgue. So, I never made it to my funeral. A lot of lost deposits that day.
But this time was different though.
I was zipping along in my little blue Ford Mustang. I had the top down. It wasn’t like it was nice out or anything. Driving was my thing. That’s how I relaxed. A long winding road, my mind not 100% on my driving, a very deep curve, and…over the guard rail I went. That’s the last thing I remember.
Since then, I’ve been wandering around trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I see friends and family huddle in small groups whispering and crying. Flowers that would be any florist green with envy. And food? My God, who’s feeding what army around here?
