In Death do we Feel?

This is a short piece of good, bad, and confusion. Enjoy (to begin, I ask that you play the song “Any Other Name” by Thomas Newman in the background while reading. If you don’t I feel the experience will be incomplete. I do not own any of the external links in anyway):



She looks like a tiny angel. She’s wearing that neon pink bow in her long blonde- no dirty blonde hair now I suppose. She’s wearing a tiny light blue onzie, but I feel like with her eyes, green would be best.



The subtle yellow light from the lamp shade at the far side of the living room bathes her gentle face in a warm glow. She contrasts nicely with the soft beige rug and sunrise orange walls. Don’t you think she looks-



Sorry. It appears she enjoys the sound of the cicadas outside and the visiting breeze. I hope she’s not hot. She’s got her friend to keep her company though, in fact she’s resting her head on his furry belly right now. You remember Milo right?



He’s their jet black lab. He didn’t grow up to be too big, he’s juuuusst right haha. I hope the arthritis doesn’t hurt him too much, but her tiny head doesn’t seem to bother him by the look on his face. They’re both fast asleep. Well by the sound of that car pulling into the driveway, I’d say her mother ‘s home.


Mother: Honey! I’m ho-

Father {hurries to the front door}: Shh! She’s asleep.

Mother {now whispering as she puts away her suitcase and moves towards the dinner table where her laptop is}: She’s already asleep? She must of had a long day of running in the sun.

Father: Yea, she and Milo played in the pool a lot too. It was a beautiful day.

Mother: That sounds so perfect, I had another long day at work, but I’m so ready for this weekend!

Father: Yea me too, it’s going to be great. Let’s get her to bed so we can get ready!

{daughter begins to wake up unbeknownst to her parents}

Mother: Isn’t it a bit early?

Father: Yea but I’m excited, cmon! I’ll go get-

Daughter: Daddy, can I have Oreos before I go to bed?

Father: Speaking of, sure sweetie, but just one, too much chocolate before bed will give you nightmares. Aren’t you going to say hi to your mother?

Daughter: Hi mommy {half awake, she darts off surprisingly quickly towards the kitchen}

Father: So how are you holding up?

Mother: I’m starting to feel better. I visited the graveyard after work today.

Father: I figured, I didn’t want to call. How was it?

Mother: Talking to him helps, I know he’s still with me, watching over like a guardian angel.

Father: I’m sure he is…

Daughter: I finished, can you read me a bed time story?

Father: No dear, your mother and I-

Mother: I’ll read you a story, go pick one out.

{she jauntily marches up the stairs}

Father:  You give in to her too much, you shoul-

Mother: Says the one who let her have an Oreo. I haven’t seen her all day. I’ll read her a story then come back downstairs and we can talk about it.

Father: Alright alright. I’ll make some coffee in the meantime.


Her room is baby pink, I think it’s much too young for her age, but she seems to like it. Plenty of barbies on a bed of stuffed dolphins and unicorns ornament the top of her pearl white dresser. She has some really cute outfits I’d love to see… Sorry dear. I wonder which story she’ll pick out. And it’s… oh no, god no, please no, why why why why Why Why Why WHY WHY WHY!? Dear child why do you love that story so much? I hate… I hate… I hate…. I hate… I hate…. Dear, this is such a sad and cruel place to be, maybe we’d best leave! I hate… I hate… I hate… I remember… I hate… I hate…



Mother: Sweetie, go say goodnight to your father!

Daughter {disobediently yells from the second floor}: Goodnight Johann!

Mother: Excuse me?

Daughter: Goodnight daddy!

Mother: Why do you call your father Johann sometimes?

Daughter: I don’t know, that’s what she calls him.

Mother: Who’s she?

Daughter: I don’t know, can you read me the story now?

Mother {hesitantly}: …alright… which one did you pick out?

Daughter: The Nameless Monster (finish this story before you click the link and listen to the other)

Mother: You like this story a lot, why is that?

Daughter: I’m a big girl, I’m not afraid of bad monsters.

Mother: Monsters aren’t real you know.

Daughter: Yea I know, they don’t hide under my bed, or in my closet, or behind the door to my room. I haven’t seen any so I don’t believe in them. I don’t believe in ghosts either!

Mother: Hahaha that’s a good girl. You’ve grown up a lot since then haven’t you? Do you believe in angels?

Daughter: Ughhhhh mooooommm, can you just read the story?

Mother {nervous}: Ok…


Dear, she doesn’t even believe in us. You heard her! There’s no reason to stay here anymore, let’s just leave. Shouldn’t we just-







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