The Glass Top Coffin (standard:drama, 2220 words) [7/12] show all parts
Author: Stephen-Carver Byrd	Added: Dec 31 2002	Views/Reads: 2415/1823	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
***Part 7*** Funeral For A Friend

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

small stage and unfolded a sheet of white notebook paper. Pastor Ellis 
had thoughtfully placed a footstool behind the Podium for the boy to 
stand on. Jordan looked into the huge congregation and all the air 
suddenly left his lungs. Never in his life had so many eyes stared at 
him. The microphone being too high, he reached up to lower it, but it 
was stuck tight. For a few seconds he struggled with it, and when it 
finally lowered, it did so with a sudden snap, hitting the boy squarely 
on the nose. The huge speakers popped loudly and everyone in the hushed 
church jumped in their seat. Looking down to his paper he could hear 
quiet snickers and suppressed laughter. He felt more like a standup 
comic rather than someone trying to give a heartrending eulogy. Why am 
I doing this? he screamed silently to himself. I'll never be able to 
get through this alone. So he tried to speak but nothing came out. The 
smallest word in the entire English language just hung there on the 
roof of his mouth. By now, Jordan was in the process of a full-blown 
panic attack. 

The boy suddenly felt a comforting arm reach around him and a warm
breath in his ear. “Happens to me too,” Pastor Ellis, whispered. 
“Happens to all of us, even the best speakers in the world. Learned a 
little trick in seminary school, goes like this. I'm going to bring you 
a glass of water. When I give it to you, I want you to take two large 
breaths then take three very quick swallows of the water. Be careful 
not to get choked. Works every time.” The pastor returned with a small, 
glass of cold water. Jordan followed his instructions and like magic, 
it seemed to work. He felt much calmer and decided to try again. At 
first his words came out slow and meek but soon they began to pick up 
strength and volume. 

“I...I was going to read something nice that I wrote about Mr. Moore but
then I decided to tell you a story he once told me.” Jordan started 
out, reading from his paper. “This was back when he was a very young 
man and the first year that he was married. It was Christmas Eve and 
Mr. Moore was out buying a last minute gift for his new wife. He had 
just left the department store and was walking toward his car when he 
saw an old man holding onto a streetlamp for support. Mr. Moore walked 
up to the man, who he said, looked frozen, hungry and very ill.” 

‘Are you ok, sir?' he asked him. The old man just nodded “yes.” Mr.
Moore handed him a twenty-dollar bill, which he told me was worth 
almost a week's salary back in those days. The old man refused the 
money and waved him away. But Mr. Moore wouldn't take no for an answer. 
He stuck the bill into the pocket of the man's thin jacket and told 
him, ‘Sir, you're not in any condition to be proud at this time. Now go 
get something to eat, find a warm place to stay and for God's sake go 
see a doctor in the morning.' The old man remained quiet until Mr. 
Moore began to get into his Model T. 

‘Young man,' the old man called to Mr. Moore. ‘For your generosity,
someday in your life you will receive a treasure, something wonderful, 
beyond your wildest dreams. It will be something that you will cherish 
until the very last breath of air leaves your body.' 

Jordan looked up to the sea of hypnotized eyes that were studying him.
“He told me later in his life that this actually came true. Would you 
like to know what the treasure was?” Everyone in the small church was 
deafly silent, a few heads shook yes. Jordan looked down to Mr. Moore's 
beautiful oak casket and began to cry. Then his voice broke and began 
to shake. What the boy said next was only slightly audible, but 
everyone in the little church heard it perfectly. “He told me the 
treasure was Falls Hills and all the wonderful people who live here.” 

Pastor Ellis walked up to the sobbing boy and put another comforting arm
around him then spoke into the microphone. “Now those, my neighbors, 
were the most beautiful words to have ever been spoken in this church.” 
One by one someone stood and began to applaud until the entire 
congregation was giving Jordan a standing ovation. When they had 
finished, Jordan wiped the tears from his eyes and sat down next to his 
mother. Madelyn took his hand and squeezed with proud affection. 

Mr. Moore was to be buried in the church cemetery next to his beloved
Sara. Since he had no family, pallbearers had not been designated. A 
few volunteers, including Jordan, carried the casket outside to its 
final resting-place. Pastor Ellis simply read “The Lord's Prayer” and 
everyone turned to leave. Jordan noticed that the strange men in dark 
suits and sunglasses were boarding into a new Lincoln Continental with 
tinted windows. Madelyn and Jordan began walking toward their own car 
when the boy suddenly stopped and began staring hard into the bright 
afternoon sky. Madelyn wondered if Jordan had at last found religion 
and was perhaps praying to God. But he hadn't found religion and 
neither was he praying. Jordan was standing on the bottom of a deep 
reservoir and looking up through five hundred feet of water and 
remembering Mr. Moore's last words. ‘But you know what it really felt 
like? Sort of like riding across the top of a glass top coffin and 
looking down on someone dead. Seemed almost disrespectful to 
stare'......‘Then we passed over this little church and I caught sight 
of the graveyard sitting off to the left. I could see that some of the 
departed and been removed and buried elsewhere but some hadn't. I could 
easily make out the headstones. Guess these poor souls had no living 
relatives to help and the Power Company certainly wasn't getting into 
the grave-digging business‘.....‘Hey Jordi, you know those “Ducks” at 
the Power Company I was telling you about? I got a feeling they might 
just fly your way one of these days. I once heard it said that anyone 
can pull a trigger, but to be a Marksman, one's got to master the aim.' 


Jordan looked back to the small cemetery and saw Pastor Ellis and three
other men carefully lowering the casket into the ground. “Stop!” he 
yelled, and began running toward them. Madelyn chased close behind, 
thinking that her son had totally flipped out. The coffin was almost 
completely into the ground when the boy rushed up to it. 

Jordan knelt to one knee and yelled at the height of his lungs, “I know
what you mean now, Mr. Moore, I know what you mean! And when those 
Ducks fly my way, I'm going to blow their goddamn heads off!” Madelyn's 
mouth fell open wide. It was the first time that she had ever heard her 
son swear, and of all times, directly in front of Pastor Ellis. She 
raised a hand to pop his mouth but the Pastor quickly caught her 
attention and nodded kindly toward the parking area. Madelyn sighed in 
complete frustration then put her arm around her son knowing that 
words, even the worst of words, could never compete with the loneliness 
of a grieving heart. The two walked away in total silence. This time, 
the boy never looked back. 

The ride home was quiet and somber. Finally Madelyn broke the silence
when she stated, “I suppose you know you're going to apologize to 
Pastor Ellis?” 

“Yes ma'am, I'm sorry, Mom, I'll make sure that I write him a real nice
apology as soon as we get home.” 

“Oh no you don't, Mr. little author. That doesn't cut the cake. You'll
give him a full face to face apology next Sunday, is that clearly 
understood?” 

“Yes ma'am, I understand,” Jordan said, staring down the road with
absolutely no expression. “And I apologize to you too, Mom, right now.” 


Madelyn smiled and covered Jordan's hand with her own. “Can I just ask
you one question, Jordi? You mentioned something about ducks. What did 
that mean?” 

Jordan looked through the side window as the beautiful countryside of
Falls Hills swirled by. Warm, dazzling sunlight spilt through the green 
branches of huge maples and oaks sparkling onto his face. Jordan turned 
to his mother and simply replied, “A promise.” 

Continued - Please see part 8


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