Don't Ever Laugh As A Hearse Goes By の小説・ストーリー

The children shouted to each other and left the playground equipment they were using to go to the sidewalk. Passing by the entrance to the playground was a short procession of men and women all dressed in black, walking behind a slow-moving hearse that was blasting loud funeral music. The somber instrumental music was made even more eerie by the imperfect audio system that introduced echoes and muffled horns that sounded like voices from beyond the grave. The children who ran to the sidewalk stood quiet as they watched the slow procession, curious at the serious faces of the grieving men and women. A woman wearing a black veil over her head was crying inconsolably while her relatives support

Meanwhile, heading north towards Woodlawn Cemetery, a solemn funeral procession was also moving slowly. In one of the cars, Dr. Martinez held my urn. That workaholic doctor was actually escorting me on my final journey. I wondered how much overtime he'd have to work because of this. So foolish, for a patient who had already passed away. I leaned against the car window, my ghostly fingers pointing toward the line of hearses. For a moment, I felt a sense of peace. Julian's arm passed through my ghostly form. He, too, noticed the black motorcade.

“You said he was driving a black car?” “Yes.” She smiled. “A hearse, actually, which made perfect sense somehow. So theatrical. A big ugly thing with pipes coming out of the front. He opened the door for me, and I got in. We drove through the fog and we talked. Just like we used to. I don’t know how long we were going like that. I can’t really remember even what we talked about. I only remember the relief and the joy of it. Like everything had just been some bad dream and my Mel had come back to me after all these years we’d lost.

Shane takes it and rises to his feet. As the hour approached for the final goodbye, a procession formed outside the church where the hearse awaits, a solemn carriage of finality with its doors open wide like an embrace. The pallbearers step forward to carry the weight of the departed, a gesture both symbolic and profound. A heartbreaking sob escapes Shane as they push the coffin in, I grab my friend’s arm to steady him as my own heartache flows down my cheeks. Lorenzo wraps his arm around my waist to steady us both. The funeral cortege forms behind the hearse as it makes its way through the quiet streets.

he yelled at them. It's too late to call for a cab or change of plan. They have no choice, but to hop in the hearse to get into the party. They all squeeze in front of the car and none of them wants to go to the back. While they are on their way to the party, Ella notices an unusual sound at the back of the hearse. "What is that noise? Something is bumping at the back of the car," she curiously said to Bruce. "Is there something at the back?" Salome confusedly asked him.

He wanted to say something else, but a car honk interrupted him. Had the staff from the funeral home come to pick up Monica’s body?

“Damn, he’s like a ghost. He scared me to death, but how did he die? Was he killed by an explosion? The tire pressure of the car isn’t too heavy, so it shouldn’t be able to kill anyone. How did he die?” “There seems to be something on the tire. Didn’t he gouge it a little?” “Right, right, right. I saw that thing on his bloody face just now. It seems to be a nail, right?” “The Grim Reaper is right beside us, but it’s really hard to guard against it. I’m scared just by watching it. It’s different from before. I was mentally prepared before, but this time, it’s really like watching a horror movie. I’m suddenly scared!”

Of that he was determined. They had reached the funeral car now, and the gaunt, top-hatted driver, a figure straight from a Dickens novel, held open the rear door to let them in. "I'll take you back to where you're staying, Sir," he announced quietly to Liam as he climbed into the driving seat.

“Everyone who restrained medical intervention. Everyone who laughed.” Her eyes swept the deck again, slow and precise. “No one leaves this list.” Adrian’s breath came shallow. His friends began to look at one another. Some stepped back instinctively, as if distance might erase their words from minutes ago. “Mother,” I whispered weakly. She leaned closer, her forehead brushing mine. “Rest,” she said. “Let me do the rest.” I was lifted onto a stretcher. As they wheeled me away, I saw it clearly for the first time—