beneath the earth
1195 Words
Carlos couldn't understand why Aunt Linda would be meeting with the officer in secret.
Could there be more to this?
"I should leave before she sees me," he thought.
As the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon, Carlos sat outside the apartment, thinking about the conversation he had overheard.
Could they be hiding something from me?
Or am I just overthinking everything?
He clenched his teeth.
"No," he muttered. "I must get to the root of all this."
Night soon fell.
Carlos lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep refused to come.
He couldn't believe that the parents who had been alive only two days ago were now gone.
Gone forever.
Soon they would be buried.
Soon they would become memories.
The thought made his chest ache.
"Why are they rushing the burial?" he wondered.
"Do they simply want to get everything over with? Or do they really believe this is what's best for me?"
The questions lingered in his mind until exhaustion finally dragged him into sleep.
It felt as though only a few minutes had passed before morning arrived.
Carlos forced himself out of bed.
Standing before the mirror, he stared at his reflection.
He was dressed entirely in black.
Dark circles rested beneath his eyes.
The lack of sleep and endless crying had drained the life from his face.
For a moment, his mother's face flashed through his mind.
His throat tightened.
Slowly, he pulled the necklace from his pocket.
It was the same necklace his mother had given him years ago.
He held it tightly in his palm.
"Mom," he whispered, "I hope everything goes well today."
His voice trembled.
"I promise I'll get to the bottom of all this."
A loud knock echoed through the apartment.
Carlos frowned.
"Who could that be?"
He walked slowly toward the door and opened it.
Aunt Linda stood outside.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked gently.
Carlos forced a weak smile.
"Much better."
Though they both knew it wasn't true.
"Good to hear," Aunt Linda replied softly. "We should get going."
Carlos nodded.
Without another word, he followed her to the car.
The journey passed in silence.
Neither of them seemed to know what to say.
Carlos spent most of the drive staring through the window.
The closer they got to the cemetery, the heavier his heart became.
Soon, they arrived.
Looking through the car window, it was a large sight—flowers neatly trimmed, the ground covered in leveled grass, and rows of people gathered below.
Some he recognized, others were strangers. His parents’ colleagues all stood dressed in black.
Everything was enclosed by a small black metal gate.
“We are here,” Aunt Linda’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Friends and relatives approached one after another to give their condolences.
More people kept arriving, and in no time, the place was filled.
Carlos could hear people speaking in low tones.
“Poor thing… how is he going to cope?”
The priest had already arrived, and the funeral service had begun.
Carlos looked toward the white coffins being carried by men dressed in black uniforms.
He wished someone would wake him up from this nightmare—but no one did.
As the coffins were gently lowered, family and friends were invited forward for a final goodbye.
Carlos turned to his parents. They were both dressed in black. His mother was adorned with jewelry, a black fascinator resting on her head.
Tears rolled down Carlos’ cheeks as he looked at his mother’s peaceful face.
His father’s expression reminded him of their last argument.
Carlos remembered the way his mother had pleaded with him.
The more he remembered, the more painful it became.
He stepped forward and kissed his mother lightly on the forehead, then turned to his father.
In a whisper, he said, “I’m sorry, Dad.”
The priest continued speaking, standing before the gathering with a Bible in his hands.
“Today, we gather here with heavy hearts to say goodbye to two wonderful souls.”
A soft sob escaped from somewhere in the crowd.
“Death is never easy to accept, but we must remember that God calls each of us home at His appointed time.”
Carlos stared blankly at the ground.
Home?
What home?
His parents belonged here.
With him.
Not beneath the earth.
Not inside two wooden coffins.
The priest continued speaking, but Carlos barely heard him.
His aunt dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
An elderly woman cried openly.
Someone behind him whispered prayers.
Another person blew their nose.
The entire gathering felt wrapped in a blanket of grief.
As people were called up to share their experiences about Mr. and Mrs. Graves, the atmosphere grew heavier.
Sam’s father’s colleague from the office was the first to speak.
“He was a kind-hearted man… a friend and a brother to me. He helped shape who I am today.”
His voice cracked as he broke down in tears. His wife gently led him back to his seat.
Carlos barely heard anything. His mind was elsewhere.
He remembered his father teaching him how to ride a bicycle.
How he would help his mother prepare dinner.
How they would all sit together, laughing and joking over meals.
The priest spoke a closing prayer, and the coffins were slowly lowered.
That was when it hit him.
He was never going to see them again.
The workers began to cover the coffins with soil.
Carlos felt his chest tighten.
No.
This was happening too fast.
Just yesterday, his mother had smiled at him.
Just yesterday, his father had argued with him.
And now… they were being lowered into the ground forever.
A broken sound escaped him.
“No!”
He rushed forward, trying to stop them, but Drake and a few men held him back.
He struggled as the earth continued to fall over the coffins, sealing them away.
Too soon, it was over.
The priest had already finished the closing prayer.
People began to leave, slowly at first, then in groups.
Carlos didn’t even notice.
He stood frozen, staring at the fresh graves.
Movement in the distance caught his attention.
A woman dressed in black was walking toward him.
Her face looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it at first.
As she came closer, his expression hardened.
Aunt Madison.
The woman whose event his parents had attended before they died.
The woman Carlos had silently blamed ever since.
Tears streamed down her face as she hurried toward him.
“Carlos, my boy…”
Before he could react, she pulled him into a tight hug.
He stood rigid.
His jaw clenched.
“I’m so sorry,” Aunt Mercy whispered.
Carlos pulled away sharply.
“Sorry for what?” he asked coldly.
“For coming late? Or for the fact that my parents went to your event and never came back?”
Aunt Mercy broke into tears again.
“You can’t blame me for this,” she said weakly.
“Can’t I?” Carlos snapped back.
“It was your event. They’re dead, and you showed up at their funeral like you suddenly care.”
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