Death has a thousand doors (standard:horror, 1065 words)
Author: jopoguerrero	Added: Mar 20 2008	Views/Reads: 3010/1945	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Balm for eternal suffering

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

you beat me so hard that I was dying,” dribble emerged from his 
trembling mouth.  “Yes Father, I was dying....I ran away and never came 
back because the last time you thrashed on my body, it was so hard that 
I looked like an unfinished murder!” 

The corpse unsympathetically stared at Randolf who was now cringed in a
corner, rocking his body as if trying to comfort himself. 

“Write me a eulogy, Randolf Ines, Jr.,” his father said sternly. “Write
the best eulogy for your father.” 

“Why? What for, Father?” Randolf shot back. “What difference would it
make?” 

“It will make a great difference!” the dead man roared. “Writings have
souls. And the souls of eulogies accompany the lost dead. They calm 
them in their eternal sufferings. But, I – the father of a great eulogy 
writer - I don't have a eulogy to soothe me in my unending damnation. 
Write me a eulogy!” 

“And if I don't, Father?” 

The corpse made an impish smile as his eyes released a faint green
glimmer. “Then, I may complete my unfinished murder, Son.” 

It took Randolf forty-five hellish minutes to complete a one-page
eulogy. In normal situations, he could compose same length in fifteen 
minutes maximum. But with a corpse waiting near him, his creativity was 
almost lost in the tintinnabulation of bells inside his pounding brain. 
Finally, Randolf handed the copy to his father who floated and hovered 
in the room as he posed to read the eulogy. 

The dead man read the first line aloud. Oh, death has a thousand doors
to let out life...“Good line,” he chuckled. And they all bring pain.... 
“True, he, he.!” 

The corpse was all smile when he devoured the initial lines. But as he
went deeper into the body of the eulogy, his face darkened. His brows 
twitched. His jaws tightened. Then, he barked. “Are you playing games 
with me, Son? This is not a eulogy for me! This eulogy is fit for a 
damned writer!” 

“I have bad news for you, Father!” Randolf said. He felt a syrupy snap
in his head as he reached for the gun from the floor. His brain swelled 
and retreated, swelled and retreated.  “I again failed you, old flaccid 
dog!” 

Randolf laughed. Demon laugh. He never laughed like that before. It was
delicious. “I am sorry Father, that eulogy can never be a balm for your 
eternal pain,” he shouted. “Because that eulogy is not for you... it is 
for me!” 

His brains swelled and retreated, swelled and retreated. 

Then, Randolf shot his brains off. 


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