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May Death Not Do Us Apart
The sorrow did not dissipate as I opened the box. Its body laid motionless, just as he had in his casket. I stared at it for a while, taking in his pale body, or “its” pale body.
Soon after he’d passed, I had ordered this replica online in hopes it would help me grieve; but in that moment, that sharp pain in my heart relapsed. This thing wasn’t even him… it couldn’t replicate his warmth, his comfort, his consolation.
Instructions in one hand, remote control in the other, I watched as it shot up from the box. Turning to look at me, a familiar smile gradually melted across its once stoic face.
“Hey, honey.”
“Is that really you?” Hesitantly, I took a step forward and reached out my arms.
“No, but I will try to be,” he said, arms stretched out for a hug.
As quickly as I had wrapped my arms around it, I gasped, prying my hands out of the embrace––even with its warm smile, it was still cold to the touch.
Backing away, I almost felt disappointed that my loyalty to him––the original him––had faltered. However, looking back at it, I could only see his smile and his crescent-shaped eyes. He was slowly drawing me back.
“Dim the lights and put on some music. I want to dance,” I purred.
He put his hands on my hips, and I rested my head against his chest. Our favorite jazz song played as I listened to the robotic, yet rhythmic, hum of his heart. I closed my eyes as we glided around the room, stopping only once to look at his face.
When we used to dance, the glimmer in his eyes lit up even the darkest of rooms; yet when I raised my head to meet his gaze, I saw a pair of eyeballs void of any light.
His grip on me abruptly tightened.
I winced as his pace quickened. His joints groaned at the acceleration and his eyelids shuttered erratically. Spinning rapidly against the rhythm of the music, I found myself clutching to his icy shoulders until he stopped suddenly, locked in place.
I looked up at him, and he returned to that spiritless body in the box.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“I don’t… know wh…at’s happening,” he murmured, his own voice beginning to crack under a heavy static.
Peeling his frozen grip off me, I backed away from him.
“Come here, sweetie,” he croaked as his head jerked up to face me. “Why are you leaving me?”
I began sprinting down the hall until I couldn’t hear the whirring of his gears anymore. Cusping my hands over my breathing, I curled up under my desk. Silence faded into faint steps and then into stomps. Suddenly deafening silence overwhelmed the room again. I peeked over my shoulder only to see darkness.
A light breath ran down my back.
“Honey,” his voice as cold as he is. “There you are.”
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I recently developed a liking for horror and science-fiction short stories, which is why I incorporated sci-fi elements into the story. Additionally, when reading, I resonated with certain characters' complex relationship with denial in the face of grief, so I wanted to express that through the main character's denial in search of solace.