I attended the funeral. Dejected, I followed the masses like a mindless sheep. Standing among the gravestones, I watched as Tim drawled his funeral speech, which sounded suspiciously like my parents'. The coffin was lowered into the ground and people slowly went to toss in handfuls of dirt and pay their respects. Finally, Lawrence, my younger brother and now the king of Coran, walked up to the grave.
"Good bye," he said quietly, throwing a clump of dirt into the hole.
I couldn't watch the spectacle any longer. I walked away, not really sure where I was going. I kicked at a stone, but my foot went through it. Furious, I lashed out, kicking and hitting anything within reach. At last, I sat down on a log bench, head in my hands. Killed! Murdered! How did this happen? Why? I heard the clatter of falling firewood and was snapped out of my reverie. Looking up, I noticed a young man standing in the vicinity. He was staring in my direction. At first I was confused, but then I realized that he could see me. I leaped to my feet.
The boy ran. I gave chase, following him into a forest. When he finally stopped I stood hidden in the trees, watching as he caught his breath. He had sandy hair, cherubic features and a scattering of freckles. He looked about my age. I stepped out into the clearing.
The youth turned, breathing hard. Then he collapsed in a dead faint.