Lions-on-Line Spring Issue 2022

The Corpse in the Blue Casket Fiction by Kaylie Frede I stare blankly at the corpse that lay in front of me. The corpse in the blue casket. The corpse that I once knew.

Even though I knew it wouldn’t happen, I half expected the corpse to sit up and open his eyes. A smile and laugh would erupt from his mouth.

But nothing happened. He lay as still and silent as stone; a corpse.

Everyone around me moves and whispers quietly as I stand still. A cross lay on the lid, a rosary in the corpse’s hands, and an ironed suit on his body. He wasn’t even religious.

A video plays in the background with pictures sent in from friends and family. Mostly from mine. Soft music accompanies it to fill the space between the whimpers and whispers.

The world moves slowly and steadily, but my heart beats through my chest. After what feels like a decade, I feel a gentle hand on my back pushing me along to keep the line moving.

Cookies and punch wait at a table across the room as if this were a solemn prom. It feels almost disrespectful. Beside it stands a garbage can filled with plates, crumbs, cups, and tissues. About twenty tissue boxes are scattered across the rooms for people to use.

The line of people raps around the halls, through multiple rooms; people laughing about warm memories, crying for loss. Familiar faces pass in a blur as I’m pushed out of the room, outside into the cool spring morning. I walk to our van down the street. All I hear is my shoes clicking on the cement.

The world seems distant as the van starts up and we head home, away from the corpse. ……….

The last time the corpse, Allen, talked to me was on the phone. And I almost let it go to voicemail because of a petty fight the day before. But 8