“When it rains, it pours.”
My mother used to say that quite often, it was her favourite saying when it came to having bad luck. It was like those five little words could explain even the worst of circumstances.
I don’t think I ever really understood the saying and when I was younger I know I used to take it literally. Every time mother said it I would look to the heavens, expecting them to open up and let down the rain. It never happened though, and I never understood why.
I shake my head slightly, dispelling the thoughts of the past, focussing instead on the large ‘box’ in front of where I stand.
It’s just shorter than 6 feet, I’m not sure exactly how much shorter, I never did really pay any attention to her height. I should be glad that I didn’t I guess, it means one less thing I have to remember, one less thing that will stick in my brain every time I dredge up the painful memories of her.
It’s made of a dark mahogany wood, coated with a glaze to make it shine against the setting sun as it sits, slightly raised on a pedestal as people pass before it. Its edges are trimmed with gold, a pattern carved in its sides of the same colour. It gives it a royal look, doing nothing to dispel my opinion that she was indeed the most important thing, royalty to us all.
The inside of it is padded with a cream coloured silk, soft under the touch. Lying behind her head is a pillow of the same material, making it all look like she could just be asleep, able to wake anytime, ready to keep going on with her life.
But she’s dead.
And the ironic thing is, it’s raining.
Author's Chapter Notes:
“When it rains, it pours.”
My mother used to say that quite often, it was her favourite saying when it came to having bad luck.
My mother used to say that quite often, it was her favourite saying when it came to having bad luck.