A Town With Secrets
Just how had his brother died?
A Town With Secrets
By Elijah Sullins
It was a small, somber affair. There were more chairs than people in the small chapel, and with everyone standing, the empty seats somehow made the number seem smaller. They stood in knots of two or three, talking softly in hushed tones, remembering to each other the friend, the brother, who lay in the long, pine box at the head of the room.
William stood alone, near the back, near the door, feeling like an intruder among the black-clothed attendees, seeing not their individual, unfamiliar faces, but instead feeling their presence, people he’d never seen, people he should know, but not a recognizable figure among them. It made him think, made him realize, just how much time had changed since he’d last seen his brother.
He saw him suddenly - the man across the room. Across the dark hats and shoulders draped in black, the man looking was at him. When they made eye contact, the man began to move toward him, brushing aside the gathered mourners, never dropping his gaze.
William found himself hoping the man would get interrupted, hoping that someone would recognize him, reach out, offer their condolences, pull him into their hushed conversation. But no one did, and he passed like a ghost through the sparse crowd. A moment later, he was grasping William’s hand.
“Allow me to offer my condolences,” he said
William nodded, barely looking up.
“He was so young to die,” the stranger added
He dragged his eyes up from the floor. “They’re always too young to die.”
A look of concern crossed the man’s face. “I’m sorry for your loss; truly I am.”
William forced a grim attempt at a smile. “Thank you.”
The man drifted away, and William resumed his examination of the worn oak floorboards between his dusty shoes.
The assemblage drifted around the room, looking at stained glass windows without really seeing them, shaking hands, hugging people they only faintly recognized, but who today felt like old friends. William was avoided, standing in the corner alone, slowly shredding the flower in his hand, dropping the torn petals, like dried leaves in the wind, to the floor. He was startled at the gentle voice at his shoulder.
“Do you know how he died?”
He turned, and found the stranger was back.
He winced at the question. “I… I don’t know. He’s been… away, I’m not sure where he was.”
The stranger said, “I heard he wasn’t far from here, up in the town of Barrow.”
“Barrow? What would he be doing there? I thought—“ He stopped. “I didn’t think many people went there.”
“No,” the stranger agreed, “people don't. It’s just another small town, like any other.” A shadow of something William couldn’t identify crossed his face.
He found himself suddenly curious. “Is that, is that where he died, do you know?”
The stranger said, “I think so, yes.”
Nothing was said for a moment, but the silence was peaceful between them.
Then the stranger asked, “I gather you haven’t seen much of your brother lately?”
William found himself replying, slowly. “No, no, it’s actually been a few years. And then there was a phone call. And I came here.”
The stranger shook his head. “Terrible.”
His pain dulled his awareness, but something about the stranger’s question caught his attention. He asked, “How did you know he was my brother?”
The stranger licked his lips. “I don’t know, someone must have mentioned it to me, I suppose.”
Again there was silence, and William wished to himself the man would leave him in peace. He turned away slightly, hoping the man would take the hint.
But the stranger remained.
And before long, he was speaking again, critically, this time almost to himself. “You do look like him, you know.”
Willam closed his eyes, ready to move away from the man himself. There was something disconcerting about him though, and he stayed. He took up the conversation. “Did you- did you know him well?”
The stranger shook his head slowly. “No, I can’t say that I did.”
And finally, he was gone, suddenly another black-clothed figure among a sea of similar fish.
He barely had time to wish that the final gathered would leave so the torment of the ceremony would end before someone new approached him. This time, he felt a twinge of relief to see a face he recognized.
The man laid a hand on his shoulder. “How are you faring, William?”
He had no smile this time. “As well as expected. Thank you for coming out for the funeral.”
“Of course, and there's no words to express my sorrow for you. A bit out of the way though, isn’t it?”
“It is, I don’t know why really. I’m not sure what he was doing here, it’s, it’s been a while since we’d spoken actually." He stopped for a moment, then continued, haltingly.
“That man over there,” he nodded, “told me he’d actually been in Barrow, another town, apparently not far from here.”
Norm said, “Interesting. That man there, the one with the grey hair?”
William replied, “Yes. Do you know him? I’ve never seen him before, but—he seemed to know me.”
“No, I’d never met him before either. But he talked to me. I asked how he knew--”
“What did he say?” William interrupted.
"He didn't. Now that you mention it though, he did say he was from a town nearby. I wonder."
“He’s strange,” Norm continued. “I don’t know why. But I overheard him say something strange as well. He said that the coffin,” Norm pointed, “he said it was empty.“ Norm was suddenly whispering. “Why would he say that?”
William asked, “Empty? But he’s dead. They wouldn’t let me see him…but he’s dead. I know”
“I know. But that’s what he said.”
"Who was he talking to?"
"I don't know, but he's not here anymore. It was a tall man, I noticed him immediately. And old. Didn't look far from his own funeral."
William was disturbed, but Norm was already changing the subject. “Look, everyone is leaving,” he said, gesturing to the slow flow of people out the doors.
With the room empty, William found he didn’t want to leave, “I’m not ready to leave yet. I’ll— let me join you in a moment.”
Norm looked like he was going to argue, but he just said, “Take your time.” He joined the stream of black flowing through the chapel door.
And William was alone with his brother.
He walked slowly up the aisle between the pews, approaching the casket. He laid a hand on it and remained silent. Sadness filled his eyes.
For a moment, he wondered again. What did the man mean, empty?
He stood there a long while. The shadows lengthened and the candles burned quietly around him. He remembered his brother until he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone, as he'd thought he had been. He turned and left the church quietly, not looking at the stranger sitting at the far end of one of the pews.
The burial was tomorrow. William didn’t remember why, but he went along without arguing. He didn’t even remember who had organized it, he wasn’t sure he ever knew. He left the ceremony shortly after everyone else. Tomorrow it would be over.
Away from the somber atmosphere of the funeral, he found himself able to think a little more clearly. He appreciated the attendees, it was nice knowing people loved his brother, even though everyone had the same words to say, and he wouldn’t remember any of them. Except one. The man had seen him across the room. Watching him?. Why? It wasn’t something he’d tried to hide, either, approaching him, talking to him. He didn’t fit. Everyone around had felt the loss, the grief. This stranger - he said all the right words. But for some reason, Willam was unsatisfied, and for some reason, he found himself worried. Who was the stranger, and what had he been doing there?
He didn’t remember making the decision, but he was back at the chapel. It looked the same in the dark, the candle's warped flames flickering through the colored windows. It was peaceful inside. Quiet, but not unnaturally so. The coffin still lay where it had earlier, but someone had left flowers on it. For a moment, William’s eyes were blurry, and for the first time, he asked himself what he was doing here. He wasn’t the kind of man that opened coffins in the dead of night. It didn’t feel wrong though, and until he’d seen for himself, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about his brother’s death, and the stranger’s presence. He didn’t try to talk himself out of what he was going to do. Something about the stranger made it necessary, something about him wasn’t right. He couldn’t place exactly what it was, and he gave up trying. He trusted himself.
The metal latch was cold under his hand. It clicked loudly in the silent church. Three more times the sound echoed away into the shadows around the empty room. He laid his hand on the handle, realizing suddenly how hard this was. He was breathing heavily. The feeling he’d felt earlier seemed inconsequent now, why was he acting on the idle words of a stranger?
He closed his eyes and stood with his hand resting on the handle for minutes, hours. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and stretched out his arm from where it had fallen by his side.
The hinges whispered as he pushed the lid open slowly, allowing the candlelight to flicker into the dark interior. He didn't know what to expect, he had no justifiable reason to expect to see anything but his brother's earthly remains. Nothing but a feeling, nothing but cold that had crept from the corners of the dim church into his bones.
He looked down into the coffin. He winced. It had been an absurd idea that the coffin would be empty.
The coffin wasn't empty. But as he peered down into it, he knew his fears were justified. Not empty, and so much worse.
And he also knew he wasn't the only one in the church that night. He had felt the presence behind him a long time ago.
And he knew who it was.
Author’s Note
The prompt for this story was the same as the title — a town with secrets.
I didn’t want to write about the town itself though, but rather the effects of its existence.
So someone died there, and his brother found there was more going on at the funeral than met the eye.
Thanks for reading.
— Elijah
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