A Most Spectacular Rift

Chapter 6

Huncho displaced his pause. She was not beautiful, more ugly than beautiful, even below unprepossessing. Her features were raw and awkward and her eyes belittled her face. Her hair was curly more than long and flowery, a brownish tangle.

"Who are you? Why are you just awkwardly here in a cemetery?"

Huncho opened his mouth to speak.

"If you're not going to do anything then leave."

"Who are you?" Huncho asked brassly.

"Me, I'm the daughter of the undertaker here. Why are you just standing here? Haven't you got a job or something?"

Huncho didn't shy from her aggressive voice. "I was looking for a job. As an undertaker."

The girl started giggling, snuffing her right hand, which was stained black against her mouth, and slapped her knee. "An undertaker. No one wants that job! You'd be stupid to be 'prenticed to that!"

Huncho stuttered. "No-no, I have good reasons. Good reasons."

"Like what?" She smirked. "Nobody wants to be 'prenticed to a mortician."

"I-I - my friends, the people I've grown up with died, and I want to bury them properly but I don't have the money so if I get 'prenticed to a mortician maybe I could bury them properly." Huncho spurted it all out with no gasps in between and it seemed to move the girl about the same age as he was. Tears started to well up in his eyes.

"Your friends, dead?" Her heart molded? "That must be a joke, unless... unless." She saw his tears.

"Snake Catchers," Huncho continued. "I've been living with them for almost my entire life. They're more to me than money, or, or..."

"That's ... sad," the girl said. "You're not lying are you?"

Huncho was about to speak but then the door behind opened with a loud creak.

"What are you doing still, little boy, I told you to get out, not talk with my daughter?!" Mr. Hans shook his head. "If I told you once, now twice, you should really get out."

Huncho opened his mouth to speak but feminine words came out.

"Pap, he's here for a job. He needs to be 'prenticed to an undertaker so that he can bury his dead friends." She said dead as if the word was like any other word, though it was not. Some words could not be described by a definition and could not be said like the mundane.

"What?" Then Mr. Hans saw the tears in the little boy's eyes and his heart melted.

"I-I" This time no one interrupted him. Huncho had trouble formulating sentences, but he tried his best. "I lost my brothers. I lost them all, all seven gone. I'm the only one left. Their parents are poor and don't have enough money to bury them well. I don't have enough money. But I thought if I could be apprenticed to a mortician, I could bury all seven with honor." Huncho drew in a breath, tears were crowding his eyes now, he was going to speak further, but...

"Stop." Mr. Hans cocked his head. "You're doing that? Wow. You're not lying, right?"

The girl intervened. "He seems, honest. Has he wronged you in any way?"

Both Mr. Hans and Huncho turned towards the girl.

"Um," Huncho mouthed; the tears were starting to brew.

"He has!" Mr. Hans ranted. "He comes in here, into the cabin, sees the turkey I've prepared for Reichim, and he's willing to eat it without asking, without manners, like a -!" Mr. Hans stopped, looking at the little boy's teared up face, then sighed then drew in a deep breath. He pushed his right thumb into his forehead, and let out a foggy exhale. "Nevermind. You're probably just hungry, not as lucky as us. Have you ate breakfast today, Huncho, that was your name right?"