A lonely mortician has a sinister secret.
The girl is twelve years old. One of her arms dangles limply by her side. Soft dark hair flows about her shoulders, her skin is cold and has a sickening grey complexion. An old man, Albert Frost, looks upon the corpse with a strange curiosity as he takes the hand and begins to file the nails.
" Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord" he whispers softly. Examining the photo of the girl, Albert proceeds to paint he girl's nails with a clear solution, continuing with his prayer. " And let perpetual light shine upon her" Once the nails are as they should be, the man dabs some blush over her face. " May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God..." The face looks somewhat more lively. Albert takes some cotton and proceeds to stuff it into the mouth of the girl. "Rest in peace" He says as he slips the thin thread though the suturing needle, carefully sewing the faint red lips together. After washing his hands, Albert turns to look around the old room. The deep green wallpaper is peeling in places, revealing a sickly rotted wood. Shelves line the walls of the dim room, upon them rest jars varying in shape and size, filled with all sorts of oddities. Albert dresses the girl in a simple white gown, and places her into a small casket. He wheels the casket out of the room and into the hall, turning out the lights as he goes. Passing a mirror, he quickly takes a look. He is dressed in his best black minister outfit, his skin is pale and spotted with age. Albert rolls the casket through the dilapidated halls and into a sinister chapel. The old man wheels the casket infront of the pulpit and quietly crosses himself. Climbing up to the pulpit, he looks out at an empty room of vacant pews.
" Friends, we are gathered here tonight to pay our respects to this dear child" He recites in a somber tone. " She was a gentle spirit, kind to all that knew her" Albert pauses for a minute of silence. " Taken from this life by a tragedy none should experience, especially not a child" Albert wipes tears from his eyes with a mouldy old handkerchief. " Let us now take a moment of silence before we proceed to the graveside." the man closes his eyes, listening to the austere silence. After a minute, he shuts the casket and rolls it outside, into the cool night. Outside, all is quiet, no birds sing, nor do the wolves howl as the man travels out into a field of tall grass, where many makeshift crosses stand. Once he arrives by the grave, he slowly lowers the casket into the earth and proceeds to shovel soil ontop. All the while whispering " De Profundis". Once he is finished, he returns to the old funeral home, removing his coat he takes a seat in a dirty armchair. On the coffee table is a newspaper, on the front page is a photo of the very same girl he just buried. In bold letters, the headline reads. " Local Girl Missing" Albert finishes his prayer before blowing out the candles , and sits alone in the unforgiving dark.