Isn't He Dead part 1

Ever since my parents died when I was eight, I have been living with my aunt and her husband. We lived in their manor near a forest.  The manor, a big and imposing structure, stood tall amidst the trees. It had been passed down through generations in my family, a testament to their wealth and importance. But now, it belonged to my Aunt Marry and my uncle, Henry. The manor was set precisely next to a beautiful forest. 

The manor's grand opening stood tall, welcoming people in with its elegant appearance. When one stepped onto the property, the air would carry the scent of pine and earthy scents from the forest nearby. Towering trees surrounded the manor, creating a natural barrier that added an element of privacy and isolation.

The forest's lush canopy provided shade during the warmer months, casting bright sunlight onto the manor's grounds. Soft wildflowers sprouted from the forest floor, creating a vibrant garden of colors. The delicate melodies of birds echoed through the trees, creating a soothing song that added to the manor's peaceful effect.

Sometimes, gentle breezes would carry the quiet rustling of leaves, making the forest come alive with a whispering symphony. Winding paths meandered through the woods, leading to hidden clearings and secret nooks.

When I came to live with my aunt two families were living near us, one of them happened to have a son my age! His parents were not around much, and he was an only child, so he was also excited that there would be another kid who lived nearby. His name was Alex. We got along really well and soon became the best of friends.

When we didn't have school, we would go explore the forest. It was our comfort place, and we would meet there every day. 

Till one terrible day.

 When we met up in the forest, we talked about our day. He started telling me about it, but then he started crying and I could barely understand him. He sniffled and then told me what was probably the worst news he had ever heard.

“I  went to the doctor last night, right?” He said, wiping his tears. 

“Yeah, you told me, that’s why you weren't at school,” I said, I was kind of confused.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Well, turns out, I have cancer," he whispered, his voice trembling with fear.

My heart dropped, and the world around us seemed to stand still. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I struggled to find the right words to say.

"I... I don't know what to say," I stuttered.

He nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I don't either," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared, man. I'm really scared."

I reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering what little comfort I could. "You don't have to face this alone," I assured him, my own voice cracking with emotion. I was only 13 and didn't know what to do. "I'm here for you, every step of the way. We'll fight this together."

A glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes as a small smile crept onto his face. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice still choking with tears. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

We sat there in the quiet forest, him leaning on my shoulder, me trying to hold him up. 

“Hey, Lille?” He asked, “If everything goes wrong and I don’t make it, please keep coming here afterward. Okay?

I looked up at him, my eyes filled with concern. "Don't talk like that," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "Everything is going to be fine, you'll see."

“But if it isn’t?”

“Fine… I promise,”

A  few weeks later, Alex died. His family didn't even have a funeral. They said it was to save money. 

Am I the only one who cared for him? I thought bitterly.

I barely had time to mourn as my family and I moved a little after.

My aunt was nice about Alex’s death, and let me stay home from my new school as soon as we moved. She didn’t really know Alex, but she knew how much I cared for him. 

That was three years ago. I'm 16 now and have new friends. I even have a girlfriend who I love so much. She brings joy and happiness into my life, and I am grateful to have her by my side. But sometimes, when I'm alone with my thoughts, memories of Alex come rushing back. It's in those moments that I remember the pain and loss I felt when he died.

When one summer my aunt announced that she wanted to go back to the old manor, that we had been renting out for the past years, for a family trip, I was both with and against the idea I wanted to fulfill my promise to Alex about the forest, but I was afraid that the memories would catch up to me and I would break down. 

As my aunt said we went to the house the next week, it was tough saying bye to my girlfriend. Especially when we planned to spend the summer together. But like a good partner, she understood. She hugged me tightly and told me she would be waiting for me when I returned. We promised each other to keep in touch every day and make the most of the time we had apart.

In the early morning of the next day, we left for our destination. We got to our old house, and put our suitcases down. 

“God, I missed this place,” my uncle said as he took in the sight of the grand old manor. I nodded in agreement, feeling a sudden surge of nostalgia wash over me. This place held so many memories, not all of them good, and returning here after all these years felt like stepping back in time.

“Is anyone hungry for dinner?” My aunt Marry asked. “If nobody is then we can go explore and then just go to bed.”

“I’m not,” I replied

“Me neither,” Henry said. 

“Okay, honey do you want to go check if the Brunels still live here?” My aunt asked, turning toward me.

The Brunels are Alex’s family, the ones who practically neglected their own child, somehow even when he was dead. 

“Actually, Yeah, I’ll go check,” I said 

“By the way,” my aunt said. “I heard there's a new funeral in the clearing in the woods, you and your friend were always going to. “He was the first one to be buried there.”

“Thanks, I’ll check it out,” I said as I grabbed my phone, kind of surprised by that information.

I walked down the street and knocked on the door of the house I remember Alex living in. An elderly lady I didn't recognize opened it. 

“Hello Dear,” the woman said, smiling kindly. ”What do you need?”

“Hi, I was just wondering if Brunels still lived near here?”

“Oh, no dear, they moved out of here a year ago, and nobody has heard from them since” the woman answered my question.

“Oh, I see. Thank you,” I replied, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. 

“Hope to see you around sometime,” the woman said.

“Thank you so much,” I said, and the lady closed the door.

“Well, I guess I’ll go check out the new forest funeral,” I told myself.

I walked into the familiar clearing.

Standing in front of the grave that said the name Alex Brunel was Alex himself.