Guest Author P.S. Winn

 The Undertaker

A short story by P.S. Winn

Looking down at his creation, Percy Milton smiled. He felt like he had really outdone himself this time. Maybe he'd done such good work because he knew the Bulger sisters would be inspecting his work this morning. Just as Percy was thinking that, he heard the faint tinkle of the bells that meant an arrival at the Milton Funeral Home's front door.

Glancing once more at his creation, Percy then turned and walked out of the room. Stepping into the foyer, Percy nodded at the two women standing there. Both women were in their late seventies. “Good morning, ladies.”

The two women eyed Percy up and down. His appearance fit right in at the funeral home. At a little over six feet tall and under one hundred and fifty pounds, Percy was a walking billboard for the funeral home. His gray eyes and hair were only a few shades lighter than the dark gray suit he wore. Every suit in Percy's closet was either dark gray or black.

Mabel stepped forward. Although at least nine inches shorter than Percy, because he was so thin, the two probably weighed in about the same. Mabel had gray hair and blue eyes. Those eyes were narrowed now. “Can we see her?'

Percy nodded. “Yes, I have just finished up. I hope both of you will be pleased when you see your sister.”

Both Mabel and Lilia nodded at Percy. Lilia was a couple of inches shorter than Mabel, but unlike her sister, on the thin side. Lilia's green eyes looked much kinder than her sister's blue ones did. The three sisters had all lived together. Francine, who now lay in the other room, was the only sister who had ever been married. Her husband had passed away ten years earlier. Francine had moved in with Mabel and Lilia then. Now it seemed the home would once again only house the two.

Percy asked the sisters to follow him and took them to the room he had been in half the night and most of the morning.

As soon as they stepped into the room, Mabel and Lilia walked to the casket where their beloved sister now lay. Lilia squealed with delight. “Look at Francine, oh my word.”

Lilia turned to her sister. “Have you ever seen Francine look better, Mabel?”

The blue eyes narrowed suspiciously as Mabel shook her head. “No, I can't say that I have, not for at least twenty years anyway.”

While Mabel stared at Francine, Lilia turned to Percy. “Mr. Milton, you've really outdone yourself.” Lilia wiped at the tears that were falling.
“Francine would be pleased. I only hope she is looking down from heaven to see just how beautiful you've made her look.”

Percy only nodded. “I'm sure she knows. Now, why don't I leave the three of you alone for a moment? I won't be too far, if you need me, just holler. When you are done paying your respects, I'll move Mrs. Buxton to the main room.”

Lilia smiled, but Mabel frowned. To her, Francine would always be a Greenwood, not a Buxton.

Percy stepped out of the room, a slight smile on his thin face, pleased that the women had approved of his masterpiece.

Three days later, Percy once again was in his special room, working on yet another of his masterpieces. This time, an older gentleman lay in the coffin on Percy's table. Ronald Whitner lay peacefully in his dark blue suit, hands folded carefully over his stomach where Percy had placed them earlier. Percy reached in the coffin and carefully adjusted Mr. Whitner's tie. Taking one more look at the man, Percy nodded with satisfaction. He then left the room to go to the lobby to wait for June Whitner, Ronald's wife of sixty-three years.

Only a few minutes after Percy had stepped in the lobby, he saw Mrs. Whitner walking up the sidewalk to the funeral home's front doors.

Percy stepped forward and held open the door. June stepped in, her blue eyes were red and puffy from crying. Although she always knew that Ronald would probably be the first to die, she still wasn't prepared and didn't know how she would be able to live without the love of her life. In fact, the last couple of days all June had done was pray for the Lord to take her also.

Percy greeted the woman before taking her in so she could see her husband. As June stepped timidly to the coffin to look at her beloved husband, she gasped and stared at Ronald, then back at Percy before looking once again at Ronald. Shaking her head of white hair, the puzzled blue eyes turned to look back at Percy one more time.
“I don't understand, he looks...he looks...so young. Did you dye his hair?”

Percy stepped up and looked at the man in the coffin. Ronald's hair, which had been completely white, now only had a few touches of white amidst the brown hair. Percy shook his head.
“Sometimes that happens. I promise you I didn't dye his hair. I would have never done something like that without asking your permission first. What you are seeing is completely normal and natural, I might add. I'm sorry if it was a bit of a shock. I hope you approve of the way he looks, though.”

June shrugged. “He looks wonderful, so young. I'm afraid people will see Ronald like this and accuse me of robbing the cradle by marrying such a younger man, though.”

Percy had to smile at the woman's concerns.
“I'm sure no one would dare think such a thing. Instead, they'll probably feel that you took such wonderful care of your husband and that's why he looks so good.”

Nodding, June smiled at that thought. “Yes, you're right, I did take good care of him. I loved him so much. I don't know how I will go on without him.”

June started crying. Percy stepped back.
“Why don't I just give you some time alone with your husband?”

June nodded as Percy stepped from the room.

Two months later, it was June who was lying on Percy's table inside of her coffin. June had spent two lonely months without her husband before she too had died, more from loneliness than anything else. Percy smiled down at the body before turning to look at the corner of the room. A younger June Whitner stood in the corner, frowning as she stared at Percy. “Is it going to hurt?'

Percy smiled. “Of course not, dear, and you do want to look nice when everyone comes to see you, don't you?”

June nodded hesitantly, and Percy nodded at her. “Remember how well Mr. Whitner looked, I'm sure he'd want you to look as good. Now, just step over here. I'll just need a tiny strand of your spirit.”

June stepped over and looked at her old, tired and very much dead body lying in the coffin. She sighed. “I really don't look good, do I?”

Percy smiled. “We'll fix that right now. Hold out your hand, please.”

June held out her hand palm up. Percy held out the crystal tweezers he had been holding. The special tweezers that had been passed down through generations of Milton's. Their family had been in the funeral business for centuries. They had a reputation for making the deceased look almost life-like.

Using the crystal tweezers, Percy pinched the air just above June's open palm. Drawing the tweezers back, Percy carefully pulled up a strand of glimmering material, no bigger than a strand of hair. Stepping to the casket, Percy opened the mouth of the woman lying there and dropped in the strand.
The transformation was almost immediate as the white hair turned to blonde and the wrinkled face smoothed out. Behind Percy, Joan's blue eyes widened. “Look at me, I look at least twenty years younger.”

Percy nodded. “And that's just enough. We wouldn't want to overdo it.” Turning away from the casket, Percy pointed at Joan. “I think the time has come for you to go. I'm sure your husband is waiting.” Percy looked at his watch. “It's also time for your children to come and check my work. I don't think you should be here when I show them my masterpiece.”

Percy didn't wait for Joan to answer. Instead, he walked out of the room to await the family members he knew would be showing up shortly.

P.S. Winn

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I am a writer who is on a journey. I write under the pseudonym of P.S. Winn. I began this journey at the end of 2012. I decided to try placing the crazy ideas in my head onto paper. I write longhand when I work on this task. After five years, I had fifty books published. I decided to set a goal of 100. Mostly to get out of my head. Then I was told I have a disease that has a three to five year survival time. So, as the time gets closer, I am trying to finish the goal. I am working on book #97 now. I live in a small town in Montana, where the waters flow, and pine trees surround me. I use that setting in many books, and also like using a small-town background in the tales. I have a supportive family, encouraging friends, and amazing readers, whose imaginations make the stories even better. I am grateful to all and hope my journey will be completed soon.