(6) Ashes to Ashes

"Oh yes I'm the great pretender (ooh ooh) pretending I'm doing so well (ooh ooh)

My need is such, I pretend too much. I'm lonely but no-one can tell" : Freddie Mercury


Why am I draped in white?

I hate white. Makes me look washed-out.

It's so cold I'm shivering. 

And why is everyone I have ever known gathered around, looking so puzzled?

It's night time. The showgirls and footballers carrying my glass casket move slowly. 

Synchronised steps taking me further into the cemetery.

From the corner of my eye I can see television screens embedded in diamanté tombstones replaying scenes from my life. 

Some in colour, some in black and white.

Happy holidays as a child, gap-toothed smiles, my first car.

Freddie Mercury and a choir of drag queens are singing The Great Pretender.

A muscular guy in leather chaps and a 'Kiss Me Quick' cowboy hat is chiselling an epitaph.

'Here lies...'

How appropriate.

A volley of sky rockets soar high above me and explode in a shower of pink sparkles against the black sky.

Batons twirl, and a chorus line kicks.

It's like a Busby Barclay musical.

I can see Liberace. The Village People. Boy George too.

David Walliams is playing his organ.

Lionel Blair steps forward and opens a wicker basket and white doves flutter into the night.

Kylie's alongside him. 

She blows me a kiss and makes the sign of the cross before winking.

And Uncle Derek! The one I remember people saying was “a bit funny.” He's been dead for at least ten years.

Can't they see my lips moving through this bloody glass?

"Two things everybody. I'm still alive. And I'm not gay. Can someone let me out please?”

Hold on. What's happened to the moon? It's been replaced by a planet size glitter-ball, and it's moving further away.

My friends and family are dissolving into mist. The cemetery is emptying.

I think we've stopped. I can feel the casket being lowered.

Bumpily at first. Descending into the ground.

Occasionally hitting the sides.

Deeper, and deeper.

It's so claustrophobic in here.

There's just one silhouette in view above me, peering over the grave's edge.

A boy. Weeping. Utterly distraught.

I can't make out his face, but I know who he is.

I shout out. “No. No. This is all wrong. I'm not dead. I'm alive.”

I bang on the coffin as a shovel load of soil slaps the lid. Then another. And another.

In perfect time to the music.

“Let me out!”

The glass fogs over. I let out a scream.

Only half the boy in sight now.

“I seem to be what I'm not, you see.”

I punch hard, and the glass breaks. My bloodied hand reaches out, desperate for someone to pull me to safety.

But no-one does.

I feel the soil on my face, mixing with salty tears.

The boy drops a rose, turns and walks away.

And then the darkness swallows me.

Forever.