Flash Fiction: Bitter End

As posted on Typetrigger.

Bitter End

My body lay in its coffin, perfectly still. It was dressed in my best tan suit, in my shoes that had never looked so polished. A sterile expression was drawn across its face; what used to be my face. The eyes were done up with eyeliner which looked absolutely ridiculous, and the skin was ghostly pale.

Ghostly. Wait a second, what am I now exactly? Is this what it’s like to be a ghost? Looking down on my own body? Am I stuck like this forever? I mean, I know my body has reached its end, that’s what a heart attack will do to you, but what happens to me know?

I moved closer to my body. I tried to feel for a sense of form, but I had no arms or legs, no human bits. Yet I could see around me clearly and float in any direction I wished. I was directly above my head now. I tried to enter its nostrils, but I only bounced back. Great, I get to be a ghost that can’t even move through objects. Where are the perks for crying out loud!

The room was empty; a church. The purple cushioned chairs were laid out in a horseshoe surrounding the stage and the coffin and its stand. For the love of all that’s good and holy I hope I’m early for my funeral. I only get one shot at this.

I flew, err… traveled across the room to the exit only to be trapped by the church hall doors. Blasted, damn ghost powers. After a while of floating in place and moping about my miserable existence, a door opened. In came the priest who walked past the chairs and up to the stage. He closed the coffin lid. I missed my last farewell.

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