(Note: This story is set shortly after the last story I wrote for the club, in the same, bizarre pseudo-Victorian setting. I had too much fun writing the ridiculous dialog last time, that I felt the urge to revisit that universe. I just typed the final words a few minutes ago so this has not been edited, or even re-read. So if I used the word “depraved” 30 times in a paragraph, my bad. Daddy needs his sleep, kids). -Nathan
It was a nice day for a funeral, if such a thing can be said. The summer sun was lowering in the sky, but it had been much higher when the ceremony had begun. The coffin had been lowered into the silence of the grave. Words had been said, tears flowed from eyes, prayers recited, and the dirt had been slung onto the shiny coffin. A few mourners lingered, but the majority of the proceedings had moved on.
A gentleman and a lady stood by a tree a ways from the fresh grave, observing the ones that remained by the grave site, either due to inability to move due to intense grief, or simply wanting to contemplate their own emotions.
“A tragedy.” The gentleman mused.
“Indeed, a senseless waste of life.” The lady concurred.
“I fail to see how the barbarous engagements of dueling can be seen as honorable activity. Despicable acts can only lead to despicable conclusions.”
“Matters of honor should be settled in private debate over strong tea, unsweetened, of course, to complement the shared, stern feelings.”
“I do not doubt that some men may experience difficulties in maintaining control over their tempers. I cannot speak confidently to my own temperament control if the prosperity of my honor was threatened.”
“In such cases, I would expect a refined gentlemen to deliver a curt dismissal of the offender, until his emotions could be calmed into a manageable state.”
“I would assess that as being not an unreasonable expectation of a man of high tastes and standards.”
They two stood in silence, enjoying the mutual agreement they had just shared. They watched as a husband comforted his wife, who was still weeping openly.
The lady sighed tragically.
“A beautiful thing it is, to sigh.” The man noted.
“How do you think?” The lady inquired.
“It’s a powerful symbol of life. Breaths themselves are a constant, albeit overlooked, reminder of our short time in this world. A sigh is highly audible and requires a conscious effort. It is the byproduct of a moment where our living intensifies to such an extreme that we announce our existence to the world in a gentle, yet forceful breath.”
“I had never considered such a definition.”
“Mere musings unworthy of more than glancing thought. Why do you sigh?”
“I sigh because of life’s intensities, as you say.”
“I refer to the most current intensity that drew a sigh from your bosom.”
The lady hesitated, sighed again, and then spoke.
“I sigh because of my own selfish sin and greed. I came to this solemn occasion not with a heavy heart, but with one light and airy.”
“Why do the circumstances not weigh your heart with grief?”
“It’s preposterous, really.”
“Go ahead, I will withhold judgment.”
The lady looked up at the sky and sighed for a third time.
“To be entirely honest, I do not know. Perhaps there is no official definition . . . it could be . . . that I had never seen . . . the shell of a deceased.”
“The sight of a corpse?”
“Yes! As shameful and voyeuristic it is to admit!”
The man chuckled. The lady’s face became flushed with embarrassment and she stared down at a slightly discolored patch of grass at her feet.
The man reached over to touch her shoulder and comfort her, but hesitated and pulled his arm away, inches from her shoulder and dropped it back to his side.
“I would not call such a thing shameful. It is a curiosity that sits within all of us . . . I believe it is engraved in our minds when we first become conscious of death. Philosophers and religious men have pondered the question for millennia.”
“The pondering of death and the definition of life’s meaning is something respectable! The depraved desire to gaze upon the soulless husk of a man is grotesque!”
“Is it truly? I would respectfully argue against your point. Consider da Vinci, the master! Would you consider this man to be one to which the adjective ‘respectable’ could be assigned to?”
“Certainly! The Renaissance Man himself!”
“You are aware of his work in anatomy- dissecting cadavers for the advancement of science, are you not? Would you deem this act deplorable? Was he voyeuristic in his methods? Would you change your description of him to include ‘depraved?’”
“Never . . . his work in anatomy was that of profound importance! He was one of the finest scientists the world has ever seen!”
“When we consider da Vinci’s methods . . . weren’t they to satisfy a curiosity?”
The lady waited for him to speak further, he stared at her with an affectionately condescending look.
“Indeed . . .”
“If we think with such logic, would that not make your ‘voyeurism’ science?”
She turned the fresh thought over in her head. Weighing it gently on mental scales.
“It . . . would?” She giggled lightly.
“Fancy that! A woman like yourself, a scientist!”
They both laughed enthusiastically at the preposterous thought.
The lady fluttered her handkerchief in front of her face, fanning it, then dabbed at the droplets of mirth that clung to her eyelashes.
“No . . . no . . .” She sighed.
“Am I to conclude that you still feel guilt despite my witty justification?”
“Ever the humble gentleman, you are!” She teased. “I still find myself repulsed that my grief could be outweighed by my perverse wondering . . . that delight could stem from such a tragedy. It’s abominable, to be honest.”
“M’lady, I think that your definition of abominable is far too lenient. We all would be despicable devils by your decree!”
“What would you define as abominable then, if my peeping does not repulse you, what could possibly turn you?”
“I should not speak of such intense things in front of a delicate lady of your refined composure.”
“I scoff at your assumption of my delicacy!” The lady replied, scoffing to authenticate her statement. “Have you forgotten some of the ribald company that we keep?”
“What I have to say would cause bashful reddening in their faces, my dear.”
“Pray tell! You cannot present the tantalizing promise of scandal and then withhold it! Such teasing is frowned upon!” She chirped, smiling playfully.
“Well . . .” the man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I know of . . . an . . . acquaintance of mine who . . .” he shook his head. “. . . copulated with the remains of a recently deceased.”
The lady stared at him, her eyes widened with disbelief. Her mouth hung open slightly. The man felt his face warming. The moment hung, suspended in the air by the intensely repulsive statement that had forced its way from his lips.
With her mouth still open, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards lightly. She closed her mouth, curling her lips inward in an attempt to keep her smile from showing. She began to laugh uproariously, and made several unsuccessfully attempts to silence herself. Her face turned completely red, and the color flowed down from her face and onto her neck, as if to consume her body. She laughed for at least half a minute. The man chuckled nervously with relief, but somewhat concerned that perhaps she was suffering from a nervous breakdown from the horrible revelation.
Tears left glistening trails on her cherry-colored cheeks and she turned to him, slightly embarrassed. Her smile was enormous and seemed to contain an excessive number of teeth.
She choked slightly on the words as she spoke them. “A . . . a . . . FORMER acquaintance I hope?” The lady broke down laughing again.
“Y-yes.” He spoke, his voice wavering with nervousness.
“Did you know the . . . OBJECT of his . . .” She attempted to muffle the laughter with her gloved hands, “DESIRE?”
“I may have met her once before . . . he had her.” He said in a more relaxed voice, laughing lightly with her.
“How do you know of this?”
“I was a witness to the events.”
Her laughing ceased. She gasped in shock, and then immediately broke down laughing again. “NO!” She managed to choke out.
“You must keep this silent. I am breaking a vow of silence to him by telling you.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“He was a lonely man.”
“He sounds repulsive.”
“No . . . he was just very sad.”
“Did the desecration of a corpse bring him joy?”
“It did not.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so. And the smell?”
“Horrific.”
“I would imagine it to be an unpleasant affair.”
Her laughing was near hysterical.
“What of the rigor mortis? And the temperature? How could one bear to feel the frigid cold of death in any touch, let alone the most intimate of contact?”
“It was not so bad after I laid her out by the fire for awhile.”
The hysterical laughter stopped. Both of their bodies tensed and they stared. The man’s throat croaked softly as he tried to think of words that he could say to undo his inadvertent confession.
The faint clicks and buzzes of grasshoppers became loud and apparent in the silence. The golden sun sunk lower in the sky, causing the shadows of the tombstones to lengthen. The cries of grief from the fresh grave still echoed against the cold, marble slabs. The leaves of the tree rustled in the warm summer breeze.
Posted by 最好的總統 
