It's Been So Long By The Living Tombstone の小説・ストーリー

He was selfish, through and through. The next morning, I stepped out of my room carrying the urn. Mike was still kneeling on the floor. It had only been one night, but he looked like a wreck—his eyes swollen and bloodshot, his hair a tangled mess, his face pale as a ghost. When he saw me, he tried to stand, but his legs had gone numb from kneeling too long. He wobbled, then collapsed back to the ground. His gaze landed on the urn in my arms, and he knew—I was taking my mom to be laid to rest.

She thought for so long like she had to fetch the feelings from some faraway place. “Sad.” The word dropped off and I was dissatisfied. I expected more, she always spoke so much. A single word was foreign to her. It was wrong. “You?” she asked. “Dead inside,” I replied. She looked at me and nodded in agreement. Hannah drove us to a nearby place that was behind the house. I’d never run in this direction so I didn’t know this place existed. It looked like any other normal part of the forest but it had a giant tombstone between two trees. A few more trees formed a U around the tombstone like it was meant to be there. The name ROWLAND TRAGA was engraved on it, along with his date of birth and de

They looked right there, crimson against the gray, a loving tribute to what we'd had. My fingers brushed the inscription, tracing the letters, and that's when it hit—a thunder struck through me, not literal but that jolt of realization, electric and startling. Touching his tombstone made the strangeness of the grounds sink in, this place where the living intruded on the dead, standing on soil layered with stories ended too soon. It was eerie, the way the willow's roots twisted into the earth, as if grasping at secrets buried below. A chill ran up my spine, not from cold but from the weight of it all—the finality, the what-ifs.

My birth date and date of death. There was also a short tribute on the down part of my tombstone that says ‘Gone To Soon, But Not Forgotten’ I let myself sink to my knees, as I sweep away the dry brittle leaves with my fingers, cleaning the surface hurriedly, my eyes burning with tears but I refuse to cry out. Unlike other graveyards on our way here, with bouquets of flowers, letters and incense sticks. Mine had nothing. Just bare, empty and abandoned. Cain was so cruel!

“I miss you every day. I love you. I always will.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting the moment. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from Liv. “Hey, you're running late for your book launch! Get a move on!” I laughed softly, shaking my head. Liv was always keeping me on my toes, and I appreciated it more than I realized. I looked back at Ashton’s tombstone, took a deep breath, and whispered, “I’ll come back soon, Ash. I promise.”

Antonio Costello - Honored Donatella Costello - Beloved mother and adored wife. The tombstones were damp from the rainy season manicured with the lawn trimmed, I clench my fists tightly missing the days when I walked home with my father, determined to have a nice family dinner served by the beautiful woman with long blonde hair. Secrets kept under a few palms in the earth mixed with the inexplicable lightness in my being in front of it. The sound of soft weeping draws my attention to one of the few remaining trees on the lot, a large, aged oak that at this distance I can see a patch of pale skin contrasting with the tree's wood.

he said. The Joneses had plenty of heirs. Even if he died, someone would take his place, and the company wouldn’t collapse. A year passed in a haze, and even the hallucinogens had stopped working. He endured it for as long as he could, but he couldn’t take it anymore and ended up sneaking out to visit my grave. In the photo on the tombstone, my eyes seemed to shimmer, my smile gentle, just as it had always been. Overcome with longing, Ethan slowly lifted his hand and lightly brushed his fingers against it.

“Yes, and then we’ll buy some chicken nuggets for dinner.” Her tombstone is no longer the shiny white, the elements had changed its color. Placing the pink roses takes effort but I make it. Buddy lays where her body is supposed to be and neither of us moves for a long while. She’s shaded by a big three, that ruttles and groans with the wind. It is the perfect resting spot for her. Not overly crowded and but just so that it doesn’t look like she’s alone.

looking helpless as he lost the only thing that made him a god: his land. "You look like you're staring at a funeral," Silas rumbled, standing by the window. His silhouette appeared massive against the grey sky. "I am," I whispered. My voice was a dry rasp, like a dead leaf when crushed. "I'm watching the burial of the Crescent Alpha. I just didn't expect the scene to look so... boring, and ordinary…" My cough broke the silence, a deep, racking tremor that made my ribs feel like they were being snapped back one by one. I pressed a tissue to my mouth that quickly soaked in a dark, thick crimson. I didn't panic; that was for people who still had a future.

When Maria woke up from the hospital bed, she told Echo's parents that she wanted to be at her parents' burial at Arlington Place. She wanted to be with them until the last minute of the wake. She can't help but burst out crying every time she recalled what her parents' corpses looked like. Her heart was deeply broken. Her parents were so good to her and protected her since she was a child.