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A Different Kind of Tale
Once upon a time is how most stories start,
But this one will begin quite differently.
For it is about a girl who obtains a broken heart
And that girl this story is about, no it is not me.
It was the morning of her sixteenth birthday, this girl named Jane.
She wakes with a smile on her face,
Ready for this day’s fast pace,
Because Jane knows today, unlike every other, would finally be sane.
Jane is a peculiar girl, some might say.
Her father owns a funeral home and her mother, well,
I’ll leave it up to Jane to tell.
Her life is not as normal as others’ may.
Jane went down the crooked, creaky, creepy stairs in the mansion she lives,
Only to find her mother and father with a grey mass dragging them down, not even dressed.
Receiving no acknowledgement as she walked in the kitchen, she turned back feeling depressed.
Going straight to her room Jane’s cat hisses as she walks past, and Jane thinks, “What gives?”
Jane sheds a tear, knowing no one cares.
Walking aimlessly around the washed-out walls surrounding her,
She sings herself the soft melody of her birthday song wishing this day would defer.
Jane thinks the hopeless thought that no one loves her, the thought no one bears.
But then Jane hears the familiar bells ringing outside,
The bells that sounded everyday to indicate a funeral was about to begin.
She opens her chipped door and starts to walk down the crooked, creaky, creepy steps as it once has been.
Through the black door is where the funeral home is located, and she became surprised.
Jane came across all her relatives in those dark small chairs scattered throughout the room.
All with tired eyes, debilitated, and weary motions.
She spotted her father and mother trying to make a notion.
But why were her relatives all gathered here to gloom?
She walked around to the back of the room but no one spotted Jane.
She continued to weave through her relatives not even receiving a glance.
It was as if her whole family did not know her and they were in a trance.
Jane made her way to an open black casket to find what made her face drain.
Jane could no longer hold in those sorrowful tears,
For what she found is a person’s worst fear.
She found herself, lying frozen on her death bed
With her eyes closed, pale lips and cold fingers because Jane was dead.
The story does not end just yet because Jane’s day brightens just a bit.
After she found herself dead, like an animal carcass, she was removed from the humdrum insipidness.
The walls gained life, the air became sweet and the room alit.
Jane finally escapes into a state of bliss.