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Set your story at a funeral for someone who might not have died.

Posted in Short Story on Mar 21, 2025

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✍️ 70 stories

The "What If" Lives of Jeanie the Dreamer

Winner of Contest #295 🏆

'Let’s have no two ways about it. Jeanie really could be a twat.'El leaned over the lectern and looked the front row of mourners straight in the eyes. She had one elbow on the celebrant’s notes, and for all the world looked like she was ordering a pint of Bishop’s Finger down at her local in Dalston.'Oh no, it’s the ex wife, I can see some of you thinking. How’d she get up there?'She chuckled.The celebrant suddenly took on a very bird-like stance, her gaze flitting from El’s biceps, tattooed with pitchforks and spades, to the family sitting ...

61 likes 28 comments 28
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Goodbye, Mary

Submitted to Contest #295

It’s funny how I spent my whole life forming relationships, working, trying to be a good person and building something out of nothing to feel safe, secure and happy. It’s even funnier how it all went away in a matter of few days, a few days that rocked my world, ruined all my foundations and forced me to take steps I would never imagine to have to take.My black boots slightly sink in the mud and I swear at myself that I chose this specific day for such an unimportant matter. Didn’t the weather prediction say it will rain all night? Maybe. I ...

37 likes 23 comments 23
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We're All Excited, We're All Gonna Die

Submitted to Contest #295

Scotland’s sister had died sixteen times between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-seven. She had a habit of faking her own death only to reappear like Huckleberry Finn a few months later. The explanation was always art. Her art. The first time she did it, Scotland screamed at her. He had grieved. He had mourned. It had been two hundred agonizing days. She was his only family. He thought he would spend the rest of his life alone. “But don’t you see,” she said, “You are alone. We all are. I was just trying to remind you of that.” She told him...

30 likes 14 comments 14
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Witness to My Own Funeral

Submitted to Contest #295

The darkness came first, then awareness. Not the gentle awakening from sleep, but a violent snap into consciousness—like a circuit suddenly completing. I existed, suspended in perfect blackness, my mind racing while my body lay still as carved stone. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I couldn’t move. Yet I wasn’t suffocating. Instead, I existed in a state of suspended animation, my consciousness trapped in an immobile shell. Voices filtered through the darkness, muffled at first, then gradually clearer. A somber baritone resonated above m...

25 likes 7 comments 7
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Dead(ish)

Submitted to Contest #295

I crunched across the frosty gravel of Tillinghast Mausoleum & Gardens in my flannel pajama pants and orthopedic boots, press badge fresh from Kinko's. The March blizzard provided perfect cover – nobody questioned winter attire featuring cartoon sloths with coffee mugs.The security guard, whose neck had consumed his chin sometime in the nineties, glanced at my badge."Elodie Sharp? Not on the list."I sneezed violently, my body's standard response to funeral lilies."BuzzFeed," I mumbled, dabbing my nose with a cactus-embroidered handkerchi...

23 likes 16 comments 16
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Here Lies Billie Snorplebee

Submitted to Contest #295

In the wobbly, toe-the-line town of Marchalong Bay—where the cobblestones never sat still and the weather had a habit of hiccuping—the mail sang show tunes, and the hedges recited Shakespeare, lollipop limericks, and soup sonnets in perfect iambic pentameter. There was a parade for nearly everything. Processions bobbled through town on stilts and unicycles, with juggling monkeys, bubble-blowing tubas, and jellybean vapor that hovered midair, smelling faintly of birthday cake.But today was different.Today, the townsfolk gathered in black and ...

22 likes 22 comments 22
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Uncovered Philosophies

Submitted to Contest #295

DISCLAIMER: This story contains the theme of death / afterlife and vague scientific study on animals. With that in mind, enjoy! The air had never sat as still as it did on February Eleventh, at approximately six-twenty-one past the morning, where the wind was utterly deceased and even the clouds sat motionless, awaiting their permission to move with the Earth, which also cowered before the hour and refused to spin, for the soul of man himself had perished on this day, with the pale body of Phil Torrance Macklimont. Thomas Asencio, perhaps a...

22 likes 6 comments 6
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Final Frame

Shortlisted for Contest #295 ⭐️

"We become what we behold. We shape our tools and then our tools shape us." – Marshall McLuhan—Today isn’t like every other day.I take a deep breath. Who would’ve thought it would come to this.It’s the end of the afternoon, and the sun coming through the window gives my living room a warmer, softer glow. Nothing beats golden hour light.At exactly 6 p.m., my phone buzzes. It’s a YouTube notification: “DeadSerious uploaded: FELIX’s FUNERAL – Hosted by Jaz Cortez”.I just stare at it for a second, then release a sigh. Might as well watch it like...

21 likes 18 comments 18
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~ Requiem ~

Submitted to Contest #295

~Requiem~I followed Aiyanna, the young and newly appointed Historian of the Hopi Indian Nation from the Memorial Service. Sitting at her desk, she looked up startled and nervously asked, “Who are you and how did you get in here?”           “The fabled Hopi Histories of your Star Child and Chieftess, Shewuma Hopitu are incomplete. In her eulogy you omitted two very important facts. First Shewuma, not the Hybrid Commander, destroyed the evil called Lucifer. And second, she may not be dead....

15 likes 4 comments 4
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Tonight we drink

Submitted to Contest #295

We were in the bar where my life had changed one year before. It was an odd place to celebrate a funeral, and still, convenient. It was dark, and close to a good alcohol supply. People would know what to do once the service was finished, and the poor lighting would be a perfect prelude for the dark night they would enter hours later.When we entered the place, the little silver urn on the counter reflected the light from the street as if someone were blinking at us. It did not suit him, the silver. I would have chosen a mate black, something ...

15 likes 9 comments 9
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Norton Macalister

Submitted to Contest #295

Norton Macalister, a tall, distinguished British gentleman of sixty years of age, has stopped to blow his nose. After inspecting his handkerchief, as we all seem to do, he returns it to his coat’s breast pocket with all the points in their proper places. As he gives it a satisfying pat, he looks up to see that the funeral parlor across the street is holding a service for one Norton Macalister. Thinking it quit the coincidence , he decides to go and investigate.Stepping inside, he notices that the place is nearly empty save for a coffin and t...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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Alistair Finch was not dead

Submitted to Contest #295

The rain hammered against the canvas tent, each dropping a heavy drumbeat on the sombre melody of grief. I stood under the inadequate shelter, the collar of my coat pulled high, trying to disappear into the throng of mourners. Or were they mourners? That was the question that gnawed at the edges of my composure. Because here, at the supposed funeral of Alistair Finch, I was increasingly certain Alistair Finch was not dead.Alistair, my enigmatic neighbour for the past five years, had lived a life shrouded in quiet mystery. He was a retired cl...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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Truth Mirror

Submitted to Contest #295

Everyone was dressed in black but those of his siblings and their children. The kids quickly placed their single daisy flowers to where the casket was lowered while their parents dropped handfuls of dirt in. One of the couples looked my way with such open disdain that I couldn't help but look down and chuckle silently. I knew I didn't belong there but felt obligated to. As the program closed, I collected my plates of food and headed to the exit. The family lawyer nodded my way and I returned it willingly. The adults in white tried shoulder c...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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Then who?

Submitted to Contest #295

"Please, not here.""I know I haven't always been completely clear-headed. But have I ever said anything this crazy?""Paolo...""Answer me.""No.""So why would I start today?""Because today is Uncle Corrado's funeral, and you're telling me he's not dead.""Because he's not.""Paolo, please. Look at the coffin. Just look at it.""I'm looking at it.""So?""So, you tell me what's inside.""You know perfectly well what's inside.""Did you see it?""No, but...""Ah.""But Mom saw it. And the doctor too.""And did you see Mom see it?""What kind of question is ...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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The Funeral of Evelyn Warren

Submitted to Contest #295

The chapel was too quiet. Grace sat in the front row, her hands tightly clenched in her lap. She couldn’t stop staring at the closed casket, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. Her mother—Evelyn Warren—was supposed to be in there. Gone. The whole world seemed to have shifted under her feet. But Grace couldn’t fully accept it. Not when the last time she saw her mom, she was barely clinging to life in that hospital room.The pastor spoke about Evelyn’s life, about her kindness, her strength, her love for her family. Grace barely heard ...

10 likes 2 comments 2
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