Love, Death and Skeletons

Leah could not really say Sharré was a close friend--more of an acquaintance really. They saw each other only at church and shared a few good conversations over dinner after a service on Sunday nights. Beyond that they never seemed to get together. Nonetheless, the murder of someone you know is always a shocking blow.

By the time she reached the open coffin, the small country church had emptied. The scattered programs of the funeral service littered the worn-out pews. Dusk-like hours were as haunting as the memories of the friend who now lay lifeless before her.

Leah was fifteen years older than Sharré, a beautiful twenty-year-old island girl. Sharré was young and exotic with Hollywood on her heels. Why the death of a beautiful girl appeared more tragic to the world was a tragedy in itself to Leah. She held her composure as well as she could when reporters, with their microphones and cameras, invaded the quaint steeple church. Sharré would be the highlight on the six o'clock news one more time.

Her bright blue eyes clashed with her reddish-brown hair which only added to her splendor. She smiled with a perfect row of snow-white-teeth and her laughter could fill your darkest days with just enough joy to make you forget your sorrows-even if only for the moment. Sharré had just enough bounce in her walk to make you believe it was real. Honestly, though, who could not have realized she was trying to make you notice the brilliance of her hair. It merely looked like a wig now framing her beautiful eyes, which were permanently shut.

Keep reading, you'll like it . . . I know you will. You do want to right? Thanks.