Lewis and Gordon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Lewis and Gordon are at the same funeral. Their history is renown and their conversation is of the the greatest importance; but what will the outcome be?


Amidst the sea of black and white suits, the red tie glimmered like the stain of blood which would never wash off, and nobody noticed. Within the long shadows which the church’s cavernous architecture cast, the solemn eyes of each mourner stared at the priests’ dusty lips as he recited comfortless words with a hollow echo. The only smile which could suffer the bleating of the crowd was the one which had shot up the man sitting at the back of the church, the man with the red tie.

Then again, the exhibit in the coffin was surely smiling. However it was a smile which only the dead could muster, a lifeless one which could only be distinguished as a cry for help from an endless purgatory reinforced by the irony that was the purgatory of life itself.

Lewis shook his head and dipped a skeletal hand into the packet of chocolate éclairs perched delicately upon his lap. With his left, he tightened the knot of the red tie. Small burning eyes stared out at the humans - the sheep - standing frozen around the minister as he struggled his way through empty words, and the only feeling which Lewis could feel burning a hole through his suit was impatience. He was expecting a visitor.

The candles huddled together on the alter. Each flame burned timidly and attempted to hold the man with the red ties’ gaze. Whilst doing this, the dwindling wicks were offering hope to the miserable guests by attempting to withhold the paraplegic parables being uttered nearby.

“Have you been here for long?” A voice echoed out through the throng; however the speaker was now sitting next to Lewis, who turned to display his wide grin and dark teeth.

“Nah, but it feels like forever, I fucking hate funerals, most boring things up here.”

“It is too bad that your eagerness overcomes your opinion then.” The speaker; Gordon replied as he adjusted the round spectacles balanced upon the end of his pink nose. A grim smile was in place, however the bright blue eyes flashed with calculation.

“You didn’t have to make me wait so bloody long and all,” Lewis sniffed, spitting tiny globs of chocolate excrement from his lips as he chewed through the hard outside of his sweet, “it’s felt like forever,” he repeated, nodding as he swallowed.

Gordon did not even blink, he continued to stare ahead with his spectacles on the end of his nose. He was clad in the typical funeral format, however his hands ached, like they always did when he visited. He stared down at his scarred palms and felt his heart wince with memories. It was a wonder he ever visited at all, after everything that had happened.

“So are you taking it, or am I?” Lewis’ voice boomed over the ministers’ own one, the chocolate spit which dribbled down his lips looked like ash, and Gordon could almost see flecks of flame crackle from each watery speck.

“I am unsure at this point.”

Lewis pulled out a stained notebook and flicked through a few pages with grimy fingernails. His right hand left the bag of sweets and rubbed furiously at his shiny black goatee. Despite his appearance, Lewis was at the height of his life. The age of 21 was commonly known as the age of beauty, and Lewis was unmistakeably beautiful.

Gordon however, was old. He had been around for much longer than Lewis, however he and Lewis had worked together in the past. His face was long and drawn, but the eyes were reassuring, something reinforced by the calm waters of his deep irises.

“How’s the son?”

“He is resting.”

“Still? I would’ve thought he’d be making his plans by now,”

“What plans do you speak of?”

“Well the big day’s only two years away…”

“He needs no plans, Paul outlined what he must do.”

Lewis snorted, “about bloody time.”


Lewis shook his head and smirked, the sound made Gordons’ eardrums vibrate violently, like thorns had been shoved into his skull. He watched as the congregation at the front of the church bowed their heads for a moment of prayer, and felt his heart flood with grief.

“Almost time.” Lewis threw the last chocolate éclair into his mouth and crunched down hard through the soft toffee, his thin tongue broke through the temptation the sugar illustrated, and he tasted nothing, “decide.”

“It was charitable,” Gordon nodded his head in contemplation, “loving, ca-’’

“A liar,” Lewis chuckled grimly, “and a gambler.”

“True,” Gordon continued to nod, his oceanic eyes pierced the ministers’ own as he stared towards the back of the church. However saw nothing. He was too blind to see.

“We have an issue here,” Lewis’ eyes connected with ministers’ too and he watched the blood slowly drain from the priests’ face. If Gordon had looked closely, he would have been unable to differentiate between Lewis’ midnight pupils’ and the rest of his black eyes.

“Is that enough to give it to you.” Gordon stopped nodding and sighed, “it did not live with me, not through my son, nor through my rules.”

“But it didn’t break any serious ones.” Lewis licked his lips, his tongue issued steam as it chafed his dusty lips. “It kissed another, but didn’t have sex,”

“The meaning was there, it severed the relationship with its’ significant other, and therefore severed its’ relationship with me.”

“But is it evil?”

“What is evil Lewis?”

Lewis stared into the empty packet of sweets on his lap. The contents were shrouded in shadow, and he was unable to see to the bottom.

“An absence of good.” He muttered.

“Was there an absence of good throughout its’ life?” Gordon asked. It was a rhetorical question, he already knew the answer, and from the paleness of his cheeks, Lewis knew so.

“Yes, often.” He turned and stared at the pockmarked flesh of Gordons’ hairline, pink scars had merged in with the timed wrinkles to reveal a blurred mess, covered by a subtle grey area where the remnants of hair now dripped reluctantly.

Lewis wagged a finger at Gordon drily, “there was good too though.”

Gordon shook his head and stood. His pink hands quivered as they clutched the seat in front of him. Lewis realised just how frail the old man looked these days, it was only too easy to picture him as incapable, but his power was great.

Greater than his’ anyway.

“Take it.” The old man groaned as the young man grinned.

“Last chance,”

“I will not change my mind. Take it.”

“You’re condemning it over a kiss, a couple of lies and a game of poker?”

Gordons’ body seized up for a second, as if overcome by weariness, there was a moment where anger flashed across his skin, the hairs stood on end like bristles, and Lewis saw blood sparkle up each grey needle on the old mans’ flesh.

“I will not change my mind. Take it.” He repeated.

Lewis cracked his fingers and stood, he stepped out of the church aisle and gleefully paced down the church towards the coffin. As he neared, he could see the goosebumps scorch the skin of each of the miserable sheep ahead of him. They moved aside without noticing him and allowed room for Lewis to bend over and kiss the lifeless body in front of him. The kiss lasted less than a second and he felt his own heat melt the cold, dead skin of the shell covering his prize. A gust of wind rushed down Lewis’ throat from the icy lips, and made a pitiful attempt at attacking his boiling heart, until finally he pulled away.

His stomach felt full, almost as if he had eaten a roasted piece of lamb, and a strong taste of meat lathered his tongue. Lewis looked towards the back of the church to notice Gordon was no longer there, and sighed. It was a sigh which a gentleman released once he had engulfed a rich meal, or a strong drink.

Lewis bore the congregation one final foxes’ grin, and they confusedly shook beneath their tears, before he left…


Submitted: January 22, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Alex Lamont. All rights reserved.

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