Short Stories

Round Eight - No Respect For the Dead

"Today at the funeral of Hortense Maria Willard, I ask for a humble moment of silence for our fallen family member. She was a woman of great fortune and beauty. May she rest in peace." Sighing solemnly, I secretly listened to the two-faced family members and friends whispering gossip of Hortense's fortune. They had no respect for the fact that she had died. All they cared for was her money. 

Looking up again, I said, "Thank you, all of you." As I peered across the five-person crowd, looking at all the untrustworthy characters around me, one face seemed highly out of place. Pushing my way through the ambiguous crowd, I came face to face with the anomaly at the back. "Great-Aunt Hortense!?" I whispered, mostly to myself, thinking I'd been driven mad somehow. 

"Yes, dear." She smiled in reply. "I am a spirit now. It may be time that you start believing in this kind of thing, Jayde." She looked at me gently. This woman was dead. It was either believe her or consider the fact that I was insane. "So, why are you here?" I asked her. "Don't spirits cross into the light unless they have unfinished business to deal with?"

She nodded gaily, "When my will is read, then I shall cross into the light. This ought to teach them all where their truly important things lay. Only you, sweety, have ever truly understood." She brushed her ghostly hand across my cheek, a cold shiver running up and down my spine. 

"Gather 'round everyone." My father, Eric Willard, called to the group. "Aunt Hortense left a will behind in my care, however, she wanted Jayde to read it aloud." With that being said, my father handed her will over to me. Clearing my throat, I gazed down at the hand-written lettering. "By the time you all hear these words, I will be gone." I read, Great-Aunt Hortense standing by my side. 

"Wait a second!" Gertrude Hiley, an old friend of Auntie Hortense's, squawked. "How do we know that's the real will? You could be lying and the real will gives everything to me!" She puffed, laying claim to what wasn't even her's yet. "I want this fortune as badly as you do, Gertrude." Eric Willard argued. "However, I wouldn't be so low as to take it or even squawk as you do." I looked at Auntie Hortense, feeling the tense pressure of a fight rising into play. 

Backing out of the group, chaos immediately ensued. My aunt's two friends threw themselves at each other, bickering on who deserved that money more. Mom and Dad, being the diplomats of the group, tried reasoning with the two friends that the money actually belonged to them. That clearly hadn't helped our current situation.

Great-Aunt Hortense paced back and forth by her grave, a concerned look settling across her face. "Can you stop them?" I asked her, the fighting getting worse. She looked at me, getting more disheartened at each passing second. Finally, her tense expression resulted in a glass shattering screech and the fighting ceased as the family and friends covered their ears. 

"All of you must be ashamed!" I yelled at them, my face began to burn with irritation. "We should be celebrating a passing life, but instead all of you are bickering over money that might not even be yours." They each stepped away from each other, shameful looks spread across their face. 

"Read the rest of it." Great-Aunt Hortense directed. I continued to read. "To Gertrude and Imogene, I leave the jewelry collection. To Eric and Paula, I give my estate. I remember how you all enjoy expensive artifacts. With this being said, I must leave my fortune to Jayde. It is a notebook, filled with all of my ideas and inventions. Maybe one day, you will find a use for it. Goodbye everyone." The crowd looked down quietly. Having read the will, I realized that her fortune was her imagination. She crossed over.