A QUIET DEATH

"Soo . . . how would you like to die?," One of the Coroners requested and the rest of his colleagues paused what they had been about doing, staring at him with special eyes.

"I favour my loss of life private. Like a small get-together; without hassles and too many people, I mean . . . I'd like to die in a place no one would discover it handy to understand--" 

"Just like this scene and case, right?" The tall man dressed in hospital-green overalls; The Coroner, asked. 

Ignoring, I continued, "I favour my loss of life to be an eye opener to all people who saw me as immortal, proud and stupid . . . maybe they'll be at ease ample or feel a tiny bit of remorse/regret on their part that whom they disliked and who was once in charge of triggering their without difficulty aggravated being, was sooner or later away from giving them the 'barf urge' forever.

When I die, I favour those who would fake 'care and concern' to drop dead too. I favour those who would go around the use of my name and photographs to declare being in a relationship with me (let's say they grew to be long lost buddies) to have a taste of horrible misfortunes. And if they don't, they shall see me in their dreams, haunting them.

I desire my dying quiet and peaceful. I prefer death's presence after I have perceived the entirety all-round as quality and the whole lot I had and wished to be fulfilled in each and every way I had wanted.

Those who tried been a friend and those I pushed away, I'd like my dying to be some kind of blessings to them . . . 'cause finally, the one who would always harm them intentionally and unintentionally would stop from it. Not simply 'stop', forevermore.

I only hope those still harbouring that adversarial attitude and grudges in the direction of me would provide in to early change. Their regrets should be second to none if my end grew to be It.

The Coroner zipped the Body bag and his colleagues humped the heavy sack an inch to the freshly dug grave. They laid it in with care, "I understand you . . ." He bowed his head with unhappiness, "You seem to have lived a sad life."

I nodded in bitter agreement.

Exhaling, he whispered, "I'm very sorry," then left to assist them in closing up the grave.

My Grave, rather.