The Funeral That Never Ended
Every mourner who left came back as a stranger.
In 1911, a mining town in Pennsylvania gathered to bury a local child. Heavy fog rolled in, and when it cleared, the procession had doubled in size. No one recognized the extra mourners.
After the burial, the same ceremony repeated the next day — identical weather, identical words, identical coffin. By the third repetition, those who attended began noticing small changes — gravestones with names not yet dead, prayers recited backward.
A diary from the town’s priest ends mid-sentence:
“It’s not us burying them. It’s them burying—”
No map shows the town anymore, but hikers report hearing church bells beneath the ground when fog settles in the valley.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from GoldenSpeech and writers in Chapters and other communities.
Vertiginous, Chapter Two
Since it seemed to have turned into yet another undercover mission, crowds were going to be best avoided, because 4-H-N’s disguise was unlikely to work on Mini-Flashes who already knew her. Flashlight for example had known who she was even when she had her nightie on. She couldn’t risk running into some friend who’d accidentally give the game away, so she led the senior to a windswept plateau nestled high amidst the conurbation’s upper strata, where was an out-of-the way park. Once there she stood and surveyed Flashfrond, he having told her that that was his name.
By Doc Sherwood3 days ago in Chapters
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.