White Funeral, part one
**This is inspired by a dream I had about a year ago-- I just found the paper on which I wrote about it, and it inspired this story. It will be a short one (read: not a novel), but I wanted to split it into more than one part so that it can have more time to fully flesh out. At the end, I will also try to get a better title, since this one doesn't quite fit. Let me know what you think, and as always, Enjoy. :) **
They say she died with the name of her homeland on her lips and a white lily in her hand, the way a true Queen should. My father was there when it happened, and he’s never said anything to contradict that, but he always changes the subject whenever the conversation turns to her death. I’ve never asked him about what he saw that day. I suppose I’ve always sensed that he doesn’t really want to talk about. I’m fine with that, anyway—I didn't want to ruin his usually good mood.
They say she was laid in her casket with a white veil over her face and a string of pearls at her throat, the way a true Queen should be. My mother was at the wake and saw her, and she’s never said anything to contradict that, but she always looks away whenever the conversation turns to her funeral. I’ve only asked her once about what she saw that day, and her eyes looked a little wet when she replied that it was very sad, and very beautiful. I was satisfied with that answer, anyway—I didn’t want to make her cry.
They say her casket was draped in dried roses and the boat it was laid in was painted white, the way a true Queen’s should be. I remember being there and seeing it, watching two of her guards push the pretty white boat into the salty seawater and then turning their faces away as it was slowly carried out by the waves. I remember that Mother cried, and Father was completely stone-faced, but he took off his hat and held it against his chest. I remember the way the long grass swished, almost as tall as me those years ago, as we stood on the outcropping above the sandy beach, watching the little wooden boat sail softly away. I remember the way the water reflected the sunlight so brightly that it hurt my eyes. Finally, the white funeral boat was no more than a tiny speck on the horizon. We shaded our eyes and whispered goodbyes, and then it disappeared.
*~end of part one~*