zg_shadows | Epitaph

The flames burned bright, aided by a generous dose of petrol syphoned from the car of a couple who were too busy to notice a slight figure slip by.

A tin of sardines for the wolf who swore blind he could out-swim the Atlantic currents but couldn’t figure out a ring-pull.
A fluffy jumper for the monster who taught that true honour was following your leader even into death because he was your leader.
A copy of Mercutio’s last speech for the man who loved Shakespeare so much he named his children for the characters he treasured.
A star-shaped biscuit cutter for the woman who was always ready with witch-hazel for scraped knees and tea for scraped souls, no matter what the problem or the time.
A raven feather and sun-burst for the man who could only cross through death once, even for the sake of his family.
A phoenix for Alexander and the secrets they had shared.
An oil smeared silver earring for the girl who fixed cars in full makeup.

These were not the only casualties, but they are the ones that affected me most. I am not a theurge and this is not a gathering for the departed. It’s my way of acknowledging the death of those that shaped my former life and a symbol of a break with what came before. I’m the only person now that remembers the full list, and one of only three in this city that would recognise even half the names. I miss you all.