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Description
The black procession made its way through the silent stone-marred grounds, silently parting to allow the once hollow boxes to be carried to the scarred patches that awaited them. Rain drops beat a sad pattern and the lone boy's tears passed unnoticed, masked from this grand parade by the fine grey mists and the equally grey rain that washed all color from the mourner's world. There was an unnatural stillness in that world that leaked out and surrounded the bearers; spreading as they placed their burdens in their harnesses to be lowered gently into their hollows.
An ancient willow stood guard nearby, shedding her tears for these black-shrouded shadows.
A lone bird cried his outrage.
Flowers lay in a rain-swept ring around the hollow wooden tombs, and the rain became an appropriate counterpoint to the hollow drone of the old priest who stood at the head of the tombs, surrounded by the rain-swept ring of people.
The old priest soon uttered his final words and the black procession loosened and broke apart, offering their sympathy to the lone shadow who, alone in this grey world, stood motionless, as the caskets were lowered into their final resting places. The grief-shadowed boy stood there, watching as the first patch of dirt hit the tops of the settled dead, and they were slowly hidden from his view beneath the soft surface of the earth.
The boy, abandoned and alone, fell to his knees on the soft, muddied ground of the fresh graves; his anguish washing over him, and drowning him. Just as his parents were now being drowned by the rain as the world wept with him; for him.
A woman, also abandoned, also alone, watched silently from beneath the tears of the willow tree. Her pale grey eyes seeing him and feeling his pain as his world crashed down around him; as all the color was washed from the worlds; as he was crushed beneath the weight of those worlds.
The boy wept until he could weep no more, and the rain also dried up and the world could weep no longer for the lost boy. The boy was silent again now, and slowly, knowing that he must eventually, he brokenly picked himself from the ground and turned away.
"If only I were dead as well…"
He turned back towards the blindingly brilliant world of colors. He really was alone, he thought hollowly, no one was going to save him, this wasn't just some dream that he could wake up from…
He was only 14…
Pale grey eyes watched him as he made his way onwards, stumbling beneath the weight of his grief, dizzy with despair. The woman hid herself from the boy's view, watching silently as she always had. This boy was now an orphan too; he had no family to claim him. How would the boy survive in this cruelly, colorful world? Was he destined to become the same as she once was? Her pale eyes revealed no emotion as she watched him, following him with her eyes to where her body could no longer go.
She was the Keeper. The one who tended to the dead. The one who was nearly dead herself. Who was better off dead…
She was only 21.

Description
The black procession made its way through the silent stone-marred grounds, silently parting to allow the once hollow boxes to be carried to the scarred patches that awaited them. Rain drops beat a sad pattern and the lone boy's tears passed unnoticed, masked from this grand parade by the fine grey mists and the equally grey rain that washed all color from the mourner's world. There was an unnatural stillness in that world that leaked out and surrounded the bearers; spreading as they placed their burdens in their harnesses to be lowered gently into their hollows.
An ancient willow stood guard nearby, shedding her tears for these black-shrouded shadows.
A lone bird cried his outrage.
Flowers lay in a rain-swept ring around the hollow wooden tombs, and the rain became an appropriate counterpoint to the hollow drone of the old priest who stood at the head of the tombs, surrounded by the rain-swept ring of people.
The old priest soon uttered his final words and the black procession loosened and broke apart, offering their sympathy to the lone shadow who, alone in this grey world, stood motionless, as the caskets were lowered into their final resting places. The grief-shadowed boy stood there, watching as the first patch of dirt hit the tops of the settled dead, and they were slowly hidden from his view beneath the soft surface of the earth.
The boy, abandoned and alone, fell to his knees on the soft, muddied ground of the fresh graves; his anguish washing over him, and drowning him. Just as his parents were now being drowned by the rain as the world wept with him; for him.
A woman, also abandoned, also alone, watched silently from beneath the tears of the willow tree. Her pale grey eyes seeing him and feeling his pain as his world crashed down around him; as all the color was washed from the worlds; as he was crushed beneath the weight of those worlds.
The boy wept until he could weep no more, and the rain also dried up and the world could weep no longer for the lost boy. The boy was silent again now, and slowly, knowing that he must eventually, he brokenly picked himself from the ground and turned away.
"If only I were dead as well…"
He turned back towards the blindingly brilliant world of colors. He really was alone, he thought hollowly, no one was going to save him, this wasn't just some dream that he could wake up from…
He was only 14…
Pale grey eyes watched him as he made his way onwards, stumbling beneath the weight of his grief, dizzy with despair. The woman hid herself from the boy's view, watching silently as she always had. This boy was now an orphan too; he had no family to claim him. How would the boy survive in this cruelly, colorful world? Was he destined to become the same as she once was? Her pale eyes revealed no emotion as she watched him, following him with her eyes to where her body could no longer go.
She was the Keeper. The one who tended to the dead. The one who was nearly dead herself. Who was better off dead…
She was only 21.