Story:Smoke for the dead
Smoke for the dead
Written by Unskaeth
Date: Early August, 2025
Roann arrived at around 10 A.M. at the graveyard. The wind carried a damp warmth as he stood in front of the stone, its surface etched with both of their names. ‘Karl’ and ‘Elena’. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, one fist curled around the lighter his Father used every time he smoked. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the names, before slowly pulling a cigarette from the very last pack his Father had before he died. He despised both the smell and the taste, but it wasn’t meant for him anyway. With a quiet click of flame, he lit it and set it down at the base of the stone. The smoke rose up, twisting in the morning air.
“I hated these things… but it’s the only way to feel like you’re next to me, Dad. And Mum, I know you would hate me for even touching one. You hated how he smoked, hated what it did to him, and to you. Maybe you would glare at me if you saw it. But I don’t do it for me. I do it so neither of you are forgotten. Just one ritual for two graves. Even if it tears me apart, I can’t walk away from that.” He whispered to himself, each word slightly cracking under the strain of held-back tears.
The thought hit him, but he didn’t move. He just stood there in silence, eyes fixed on the smoke rising, as if it carried his words to both of them. He watched the cigarette burn itself down, ember glowing faintly. No words left his mouth, but the thought pressed heavy in his chest.
“I’ll carry it all, so you don’t have to anymore.”
The last wisp of smoke faded into the sky. Roann turned, shoes crunching softly on gravel as he walked to the nearest bus stop, then rode through the busy city, face reflected faintly in the rain-streaked window. From the bus he took the train, he watched out of the window until the skyline opened into the airport ahead. Hours later, he wheeled a small suitcase through the Brisbane airport. The terminal buzzed with families and travelers, but Roann moved like a shadow among them.
He checked the departure board: Flight to Los Angeles. He would have to get into a domestic flight to Tallahassee after.
At the gate, he leaned against the glass, staring at the runway lights. He thought about Viktor, his parent’s grave, leaving it all behind. He also thought of that one friend he held dearly. He pressed his knuckles against the glass for a moment, the same ones he bloodied in too many fights. Then the boarding call came. He slowly exhaled.
Featured Characters
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