Metal Urns For Human Ashes Novels & Stories

She got up, hand resting on her brother as she held the urn with her other hand, clutching tightly like it was her last line. Together they walked towards the water, the waves touched their feet as though in greeting, they went deeper and deeper till the water got to their waists and the water moved around them. She held the urn in her hands, outstretched before her. “Toto, my baby. You've left your mother alone in this world. But it's alright. I'll make sure you did not die for nothing.” She opened the urn and looked inside it. Her son, the once vibrant and full of life child was now reduced to ashes and could fit in this urn. A whole life in an urn. That was how death was.

Mother took my cold hand again. “Both of you, leave.” After a long silence, Father turned to Adrian. “Move out of the Alpha House. Stay away from your mother.” Three days later, the pack held my Moon Farewell ceremony. My body was cremated beneath the moonlight, and my ashes were sealed inside a black stone urn carved with silver crescents. Mother refused to place it in the family crypt. Late that night, she carried the urn into the storage closet where I had hidden after coming home.

“No, that’s the problem! The nganga is always a cauldron or cast iron pot. The working of metal in ancient times was one of the greatest mysteries, next to masonry, so it contained quite a bit of spiritual power. Man taking what the gods wrought and shaping it to his own desires. Very powerful stuff. A pottery bowl marked with Palo symbols is unique.” She walked to another stack of folders and, almost at random, whipped out a photograph. Jon looked. In it was an old-fashioned black cauldron. On it, a large ‘S’ was painted in white and adorned with crosses. The cauldron was filled with a large collection of junk. Rusted knives, Mardi Gras beads, a crude face chiseled in obsidian, some steel c

“Yes, we took the liberty of turning her remains in ourselves. Mr. Blackwood said you would prefer that.” I slowly took out the small ceramic urn that had a small nook in the centre. It weighed just as much as Yvette did, and had her name etched on one side of the vase with angel wings framing it. I pressed the urn to my chest as my heart tightened, completely forgetting the people around me. “Sorry.” I apologized as I sniffled. The mortician gave me a small smile. “I’ve seen more displays of grief in this office than you can ever imagine

No one deserving, at any rate. No one within reach. Richard had learned a long time ago about cremation. He knew the ashes given to families weren’t really ashes at all but pulverized bone chips and burned fragments run through a cremulator, leaving them a fine, sandlike texture. Michelle’s casket with the detachable bed liner would be rolled discreetly out of sight, and its removable fiberboard box lifted from the interior so that the casket’s outer shell could be reused again. Next they’d take her from the chapel to the crematorium to be placed straight into the incinerator, body and liner bed and all, where she would roll upon a motorized trolley into consuming flames in excess of 1,500 d

“Yeah?” “After the ceremony and the cremation, we gather the ashes and put them in a pod. Then place soil in it and plant that in our garden. The family can chose between a tree or a flower. It’s like a full circle. Gives back to nature and allows them to visit their loved ones. Of course, they aren’t required to do this. They can do what they want with the ashes.” “That’s actually is a very special way to remember them” Alec sounded so surprised.

I planned on it. The sterile, antiseptic atmosphere of the mortuary seemed to be closing in around me, suffocating me beneath its weight. The silver and black urn, a cold, unyielding vessel, felt like a leaden anchor in my hand, a constant reminder of the unbearable loss I'd suffered.

It contained a gold vase and by judging its design and sculptor, I bet it was antique and must have cost her a fortune. “Unbelievable! This is here for real!” Sabrina gasped closing her mouth. “It is just a gold vase, Sabrina. Why are you overreacting? I expected such useless gifts from such high class lady.” Carlotta rolled her eyes. “This isn’t just any vase, it is one of those vases which were used to keep ashes of our ancestors who died in the war with the north. A century ago, a fire broke out in the columbarium and everything burnt except for these vases which were lost or stolen with time. I had seen one in my grandfather’s treasure.” Sabrina said.

The silver and black urn was sitting right in the middle. It was adorned with glittering filigree and vines that when the light hit them, sparkled, casting reflections across the room. The sight of the urn had more memories flooding back. I was standing at the mortuary, urn in hand. My face was solemn and void of emotion. I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak to anyone. I was surprised I was even able to remain there long enough to hear the assistants last words before I materialized at home in front of the mantle. I had just enough time to set the urn down before I completely and utterly lost it.

My own mates—I kept calling them that in my head—included. In silence, we paid homage to those whose souls had journeyed to the Underworld, or the afterlife, or wherever they went. I already missed Samuel. His death rattled me to the core. There was no knowing how much time each of us had here on earth. At any moment, it could be taken away. The time we had with each other was precious. I wished I could have told Samuel how much I appreciated him. It's too late now. But I hoped my silent words of gratitude reached his ghostly ears wherever he was. The flames cremated their bodies and left behind their ashes encased in obsidian-like rock urns. The glassy, reflective black stones were collecte