My Life as an Awoken

The next morning was the day of the funeral.

I got up, took a shower, put my clothes on, and got ready for the day.

My hair was gelled up, face shaved into my usual style, and my suit was tight fitting. With my deep blue eyes I looked every part the brooding villain.

I ate breakfast in the hotel before leaving.

The funeral was going to be held in the morning.

The first thing was visitation, while everyone was arriving the family would stand next to the casket and greet all of the guests. While the guest would offer their condolences.

When I arrived there were already quite a few people there. I went forward and offered my condolences. They thanked me. Afterward I went and sat down with Layla’s friends, Samantha, Emily, Mariana, Seth, and Nathan.

They all looked sad and depressed. But, Samantha was on another level, she looked awful, way worse than Layla’s family. Which actually didn’t look that sad, if they were even sad at all.

Samantha’s face was puffy and her eyes were bright red. She asked a moment after I sat down, "I thought you had a plan."

I looked at her from the corner of my eye, then took my AR glasses off and handed them over.

She didn’t question anything, just took them and put them on. When she did she would see not only the damning video, but also the live feed from all of the doorbell cameras around Tyrell’s house as he and his friends were setting up a barbeque.

They were hooting and hollering about today being a day of celebration. So, they along with their neighbors were having a barbeque in the street today. They had started setting up fire pits around the area to drive off the cold.

Everyone seemed to be in a jovial mood.

A few minutes later Samantha handed me back the glasses and said, "You better have a good plan."

I replied quietly, "I don’t know how good it is, but I’m sure he won’t live another day."

Samantha said grimly, "Good."

Once the visitation was over they moved onto the opening rites.

However things shifted into a weird tone when the priest started.

The priest was a young guy who had bright blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Despite how bright his eyes were they didn’t shine, they seemed oddly dead. But, they held a fanaticism that couldn’t be masked.

The interior shutters were closed one by one, the light being shut out, slowly but surely. Until the only light came from the candles silently burning on their candelabras.

Then the priest started singing his hymns. The only problem was that they were sung either in tongues or a language that I was unfamiliar with. It definitely wasn’t a common language spoken in the world.

As he sang his hymns, he lit more candles surrounding the casket. Then he covered the casket with a white cloth and doused it in holy water.

Once that was done he moved onto scripture reading, where another problem appeared. The passages didn’t seem to come from the normal holy scripture.

"You shall not be afraid of death, for God has said, "Those that follow my will shall receive endless joy and glory. For those that don’t, pain and hatred shall manifest eternally, never allowing peace for the wicked." God has given you his orders and his commands. You must follow them unquestioningly, remaining absolutely loyal, even in the face of death. You must follow his will for eternity."

I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sound like the passages I grew up hearing. While not outright evil, something definitely feels off, right?

I leaned over to Samantha and asked, "Those passages sound kind of off, don’t you think?"

She was rather dismissive, "I don’t really know. I’m not exactly a churchgoer. But, they sound fine. It’s the typical churchy nonsense."

I started looking at the other people in the Parish Hall and they seemed transfixed.

I leaned back over to Samantha and said, "Look at the other people, don’t they look like they are in a trance?"

Samantha sighed, shook her head, then looked around. After a moment she said, "Huh, that is weird."

We each looked at the other people, even Layla’s other friends were in a trance.

I wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with. So, I clapped my hands as hard as I could. The sound reverberated around the church Parish Hall and those seated in the pews awoke from their trance.

It was like they had just woken up from a nap, with a slight headache and a bit of confusion.

But, with my continued clapping, everyone else started to join in. They were confused about why they were clapping, but if everyone else was then they should too.

The priest scowled at me for a moment then got right back to his official duties as it was time for the Eulogy.

Layla’s mom was the one to give it. She talked about how Layla was a lovely daughter, how she had strayed from the flock, but now she had returned.

It was disgusting. How could a person be happy for their daughter’s death because it meant they couldn’t avoid you now?

It wasn’t just me, others also seemed put off by her words. But, her family just nodded along in agreement.

Samantha looked ready to blow, I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down. I said, "We just need to make it through this. Making a fuss now won’t achieve anything."

She took another deep breath and said, "You’re right. Tearing them a new ass hole won’t do anything."

From the Eulogy came the Sermon where the priest started another rant about God that seemed a bit off. But, this time no one seemed to be enchanted by his words.

Finally he gave his closing prayers.

Afterward it was time to move to the graveyard. It was a slow walk over in the biting cold, where even the midday sun did nothing to help. It was as if the whole world had lost its warmth.

After a few more words, Layla was lowered into the ground.

Then one by one, shovel after shovel, she was buried.

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