I’m writing a funeral . . .
However, due to certain biological constraints that prevent him from actually setting foot on hallowed ground, my main character/first-person narrator is unable to attend.
I’m writing an implied funeral . . .
Revision is awesome.
Brenna Yovanoff 
Haha. More angst for Mackie. Hahahah.
Mackie is like this: :(
But I am like this: :)
As it should be. :D
I am sending Miss Emily to help:
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –
ooh, cool! I love Miss Emily at the best of times, but this stanza is dynamite:
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –
Hi. I’ve been networking and marketing myself outside of the most obvious places, and surprisingly, or not, I’m not always welcomed on hallowed ground either. I don’t burst into flames or anything, but I think they’d like me to. That would be cool! Maybe?
Happy writing.
Thanks, Simon!
Is this for Tate’s sister? Interesting…
Exactly! The time-line has . . . adjusted.