Murder Mystery of Arck

The Funeral

“This is Eric,” Sebastian introduces me to a man standing near a really nice car. I don't know what car it is because I don’t know anything about cars and I never wished to know about cars. Although, I’m sure I have seen that car somewhere before; probably on the road.

“Eric, Rosalind May,” Sebastian says as Eric extends his hand. I extend my own and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. May,” He says, offering me an ear-to-ear smile.

Eric is dressed formally. He is wearing a white shirt, a black tie, trousers and a suit jacket. He looks remarkable and quite handsome. I’m pretty sure he can’t go anywhere unnoticed.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I say, giving him a small smile, “Please call me Rose.”

“Whatever you’d like, Rose,” Eric says, letting go of my hand and opening the car door, “Shall we?” I sit down on the backseat of the car after muttering a ‘thank you’.

Sebastian sits opposite me and Eric in front of me. Sebastian decided to wear a turtleneck and an overcoat with black trousers. I don’t have a black dress, so I decided to wear a white t-shirt with black trousers and a black jacket. I look presentable, to say the least.

The car ride begins smoothly as I rest my head on the window and close my eyes. The hammering in my head that I am experiencing since I woke up this morning is getting more painful than I can bear.

I open my eyes and glance at Sebastian with a scowl, cursing him for taking away my thermos of elixir. I sigh and look up at the sky. It’s cloudy again. There was a little sunshine when I woke up, but it’s gone again. And I don’t think it is going to come back, much to my dismay.

It’s almost always cloudy here, it doesn't matter if it’s April or October. And it rains more often than I like. As much as I love the forever-winter season, I don’t mind a few days of sunshine.

“Is the cemetery far away?” I ask no one in particular. “Yes,” Sebastian replied in a monotone voice. “Is it okay if I sleep a little?” I ask as I feel my eyelids getting heavy.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he says. His voice is a little softer, if that is possible somehow. The car runs steadily and easily on the road. I feel the vibrations through my feet and head.

There is no sound as I start drifting off the sleep, and I don’t remember anything I worried about a few minutes ago. I don’t have a ‘last thought’, just the feeling that tells me to lose my consciousness, tells me to rest. And then, all at once, I fade away.

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I don’t dream often. But when I do, they are not very pleasant. Some dreams are memories and the others are just created in the most bizarre ways.

It is understandable to fear things you have never seen before, but why do you fear things you have seen and experienced?

However, through my dreams I understand how I feel; although, I don’t remember what I saw or heard after I wake up, I remember the emotions I felt.

I can never understand these emotions. I know something is not right about this feeling, but there is nothing I can do to change that; the feeling of being suffocated or thrown off a building. What do these feelings signify?

And after I wake up, I feel tired as if I have just escaped death. I don’t like having dreams because they chase the much needed sleep. They make me feel more tired than before, and then my body forces me to go through the day once again.

My life is a routine. A never-ending, boring and bitter routine. And it is even worse when I spend my time, priceless time, with people I have simply heard of. I don’t wish to stay in the real world and I don’t have any dreams to get lost in.

The thing I hate the most about sleeping is my brain’s ability to weave the weirdest and the most unpredictable dreams, and present them to me.

However short the time was when I slept in the car, I had a dream. This was a dream I could not forget. It was more of a memory than a dream; a real-life nightmare.

There is a man running in front of me as I run behind him while calling out to him. He doesn’t look back, no matter how loudly I shout.

And he doesn’t look before he crosses the street, and I think there is a pause and I stop running, dropping what I have in my hand.

He finally looks back at me as if he heard me. I hear the screeching of the car tires and I see the man stop. Everything’s a rush after this.

The last thing I see is blood before my mother cries my name and covers my eyes. I don’t know if I was eight or seven and I don’t remember what happened that year. I just remember seeing a man die.

I didn’t know him and I didn’t know why he was running. I thought I was helping the man by giving him something that he left mistakenly.

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I woke up with a jolt. I don’t know if it is me or the car, so I look around. “Are you alright?” Sebastian asks, resting his hand on my shoulder. He has concern shining in his pitch-black eyes, but I’m not certain. I only catch a glimpse before I turn and close my eyes.

It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream. I think to myself, covering my ears and trying to calm my breathing. I can hear my heart beating in fright.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds before exhaling. I feel breathing going back to normal after repeating that a few times.

I turn my panicked face into a scowl as I realize that I did not sleep well and my neck hurts from the position I was sleeping in. “Yeah, alright,” I replied in an annoyed tone, “Are we there yet?”

“A few more minutes,” Eric answers from the driver’s seat. I hum in response. Sebastian removes his hand and I lean back on the seat, crossing my arms.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Sebastian questions. I turn my head to look at him. He is looking out the window at the tree as they pass by. “Something like that,” I say, massaging my neck. I turn my gaze outside the window.

“Ever been to the cemetery?” He asks. There is no sign of curiosity in his voice. It’s like he is uttering the words in a systematic manner, like a machine. I clear my throat before answering, “Yes, when my grandfather died. I don’t really remember anything. I was very little when he passed.”

He shifts in his seat, tensing his body. I raise my eyebrow and look at Eric through the rearview mirror. His alarmed eyes shift between Sebastian and the road. I glance at him and then back at the trees. His jaw is clenched and his hands are curled up in a fist.

“What about you?” I ask.

“We have a family graveyard,” he says after a moment of silence.

“I see,” I responded.

None of us say anything after that. I could sense that Sebastian didn’t want to talk anymore. I remember when he went home for his grandfather’s death anniversary. He was feeling dull for a few days after he returned before going back to usual self.

I remember Harry telling me that Sebastian loved and respected his grandfather more than anyone and that they had a close relationship. Talking about his grandfather is really hard for Sebastian since his death, so he refrains from doing so.

Sebastian used to play violin because his grandfather taught him and he hasn’t played the instrument for the last seven years.

I would have thought that three years is enough time to recover from an unfortunate incident like that. But I don’t have the right to say or think that because I haven’t experienced anything close to something so heartbreaking.

I didn’t cry at my grandfather’s because I didn’t understand anything. But I didn’t cry even after I understood.

I understand that there is nothing that can be done to bring the person back. They are alive in our memories, and that has to be enough now that the person in those memories is gone.

I sat up straight to see the entrance to the cemetery. There are four cars parked outside and I can see black figures gathered at a place.

Eric parks the car at a distance from the others and cuts the engine. I open the door and step outside, looking at the sign over the entrance that says ‘CEMETERY’.

“Let’s go,” Sebastian says, shutting his car door. “I’ll stay here,” Eric murmurs, leaning against the car as I shut the car door. “As you wish,” Sebastian responds, placing his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, “Come on, May.”

We walk together side-by-side and enter the graveyard. We pass by several graves of people we don’t know. Some of the graves have withered flowers placed on the ground and some have fresh flowers.

We stood behind so that no one would notice us. The coffin rests beside the hole dug for it, and I notice Mark’s family standing near the coffin.

The first person I notice is a girl not more than 15 years in age. Her eyes appear to be glassy, but her face is void of any emotions. She looks……. empty. Her hands are wrapped around a woman who is sobbing on her shoulder.

“We gather here today to celebrate the life of Mark Gardener, who has now returned to his home with Our God, The Father,” the priest says. Small white particles start falling from the sky just as the priest finishes his sentence.

The priest’s voice blurs in the background as I look up at the sky, feeling the snow land on my face. I knew it would snow soon but I didn’t expect it to snow today. I didn’t even realize the temperature had fallen.

A warm cloth wraps my body as Sebastian whispers, “Don’t catch a cold.” He steps aside when I look at him. One of his hands is over the other in front of him as he closes his eyes and bows his head.

I just stand there and listen to the priest speaking as I pull the overcoat closer, my body shivering from the cold.

I’m not very religious. I believe in God, but I don’t pray to him. I believe that there is a figure, an entity that has created us and all the things that exist in our world and our universe.

I don’t pray because I don’t think that will do anything. Things will change when I make the changes happen and not wait for them to happen for me.

As I listen to the priest, I am reminded of the time my grandmother used to take me to church every Sunday and how my ten year old self used to just sit there, not saying a word. The only thing I knew then was to stay silent as soon as we entered the church.

She stopped taking me when she realized that I don’t pray. She was very thoughtful, despite her age and understanding.

The coffin is lowered into the grave and after the mourners take their final farewell, the priest says, “Give him, O Lord, your peace and let your eternal light shine upon him.” The congregation responds, “Amen.”

“Let us go in the peace of the Lord.”

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I glance at my watch. It is now four in the afternoon and it has been half an hour since everyone has gone home. The snow hasn’t stopped for one minute since it started and the sudden gusts of wind hitting my face make me flinch.

We were sitting on the wooden fence attached to the entrance. Neither of us has spoken a word since we sat down, but I like it that way.

I asked Sebastian if we could stay a little longer. I enjoy the silence the graveyard provides. It is a nice break from all the noise and the chattering in the university. I felt the same emotion I feel when I am awake late at night.

Although the air surrounding this place is solemn, at least I can hear myself breath.

Sebastian asked if I wanted to go and meet my family. I couldn’t help but freeze at the question. I didn’t know what to say and I still don’t know.

There is a feeling of longing to see their faces and feel their embrace, but there is also a hesitation that bothers me and keeps me from seeing them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet your family?” he asks, breaking the silence. My eyes look around the grave as a thousand thoughts attack my mind. They stop where Mark’s grave is.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, jumping off the fence.

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