Drabbles

The Funeral | The Graveyard | The Wake

The Funeral

John Luke’s final audience was dressed all in black.

Lisa, the aspiring actor's girlfriend, sat in the front pew next to his family. All wept as the priest made his sermon of tragedy; life ripped from its moral coil far too soon.

John Luke was poised for Broadway, about to be a headline. Instead, his death was fine print on page 3. 'Death by accidental overdose'.

After service, they filed past the coffin. Lisa placed a belladonna flower and whispered, “Good night, sweet prince.”

Tony, one of John's writer friends, hugged her small form till she could sob no more.




The Graveyard

His bum was getting damp from the pile of dirt they sat on. “This lark makes a chap wonder to the meaning of it all,” Jeff drained the thermos of coffee into his cup.

Pete snorted a reply, “What’s to wonder: we comes, we does, then we goes.”

“But there must be more to it than that,” Jeff protested, “And it’s our quest to learn what that more is. ‘Knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven’, and all that.”

“Bollocks. Naught but self-comforting ideologies.”

Both then stood and picked up their shovels to resume filling in the grave.


The Wake

It was difficult to say when he noticed the soft thudding sound or the faint male voices; when did the darkness and pounding headache give way to these stimuli?

He tried to open his eyes, only to realise they were already open. John Luke’s heart quickened in horror as he realised he could barely move. He thrashed but met with wooden resistance disguised as a soft cocoon.

“Tony!” his shout was of anger as much as in desperation. Memory flooded in of a drunken Romeo dare, and he gasped another breath, beating his fists on the lid, “Let me out!”





Written for: "Drabble Activity 2024" 
Prompt: A drabble trilogy (trabble) – 3 drabbles related to one another, and yet each able to stand on their own