Genre: Fiction/ Word Count: 100
Holding tightly to her mother’s hand, the little girl looked upon the figure in the casket.
“Did Appappan* really die preaching?” she whispered.
Her mother nodded. “He always said he would.”
Behind them hundreds had gathered to pay their respects.
Later, the girl sat in her granddad’s study, thumbing through his notes, tracing the leather cracks on his Bible.
A favorite hymn bubbled up from within her. She started to sing, feeling as if a choir of angels were joining her.
That night she announced, “I want to die singing, Mummy, like Appappan died preaching!”
Many years later, she did.
*”Appappan” is southern Indian for grandfather
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields' Friday Fictioneers Click on Mr. Frog and join in!