The news from Baltimore arrived in a hearse. Cornelius Francis Poehler was dead. And not a single relative that guided him to his final resting place would shed a tear for him. Not even when the coffin was lowered into the ground, and amid the soothing rustling of autumn leaves, the persistent anxious thumping from inside the wooden box was clearly audible.
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300 stories 
How are you this amazing?
Wow 🙂
Hmmmm! I hear a plot thickening!
Four sentences and 62 words – a story with a twist. Incredible!
This is really well done; you conveyed so much in so few words. Well done.
I don’t click a lot of likes, but for this one, I had to. You accomplished a hell of a lot with this little piece.
You are a fountain of ideas!
Well, shades of Edgar Allen Poe! How appropriate to place this in Baltimore.
Not a coincidence 😉
wooooahhh.
I need to rethink my funeral arrangements. Thanks for the twist.
This would make a fine poem. It is nearly poetic already.
Reblogged this on scientist47's Blog.