On Monday mornings, I send out a story via email: ultra-brief tales of 1,000 words or more, usually in genres including horror, science fiction, and the supernatural. Those stories collectively are called Once Upon A Time. I’ve also published several ebooks and compendium volumes of those stories so far.

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Here's story 227, of 240 so far.

High Hopes

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of the late Theodore Eildon, who was always known as Ted to his family and friends,” the minister said.

The assembled mourners were only modest in number, but the men wore their suits and the women wore their dresses, all in black, and there were some tears in the eyes of each group. Eildon’s family sat on the left in the first few rows, and by silent mutual agreement, the rear half of the hall was left empty, keeping everyone towards the front.

The deceased hadn’t been a religious man so he had barely been in the church in his life except to attend the occasional wedding, and the minister had never met him. But it was the custom of this ceremony to speak as if the two had been close and years-long friends, with every detail of Eildon’s life ready at hand as a treasured memory. Such was the ritual of the eulogy.

“Ted would have been happy to see so many of his loved ones here today,” the minister continued after taking a moment to look around the nave. “He would also have been delighted to be the sole focus of attention.”

It was an easy remark, impersonal and trite, but it provoked the expected smiles and nodding of heads. This, too, was a part of the ritual, after all.

“He was a man of many interests and passions, and his wife Angela was definitely in the top five.”

Genuine laughter this time, including from the woman in question. Her son and her daughter, both present, laughed in the different ways that society required in response to this particular joke, performing the leering masculine grin and the wearied feminine head-shake respectively. Everything was proceeding according to tradition.

“Ted was a keen musician,” the minister said, “who learned to play the piano when he was a young boy, achieving several formal grades before moving on to other things. He continued his interest into adulthood, acquiring all kinds of fancy musical instruments and gadgets, software, plugins, templates, and learning a huge amount about song-writing, music production, mixing and mastering, and so on. Ted had high hopes of someday writing a song, and he had several fragments already in progress.”

More nods, and a few inaudible but clearly warm remarks exchanged by a few members of the audience. The minister paused for a moment before continuing.

“He also had a strong interest in woodworking, though I’m sure Angela would tell you that he made more mess than furniture. Ted had his own workshop, stocked with the best of tools and jigs and clamps and all the rest of it, and was known to spend hours happily watching videos about techniques and new tools to acquire. He even did a few odd jobs around the house from time to time, and had a number of wonderful ideas for future projects he might tackle someday with the help of his son.”

The widow put her arm around the son, and the young man smiled at her. There was sadness in it, but also pride, and perhaps the first glimmers of the change that must now take place in his own role within the newly diminished household.

The minister glanced at his notes, concealing the action by adjusting his spectacles, reminding himself which part of the speech came next. He smiled.

“Ted was always busy, but he made time for his family and his friends, while still working diligently. He was a computer programmer, and while that’s not exactly my own area of expertise, I’m reliably informed that he was good at what he did.”

Chuckles from around the pews. The son was gently elbowed by the mother now, so presumably he too was technically-inclined. The minister went on.

“You’ll have to excuse me for reading this next part word for word, but it’s all Greek to me, so bear with me. Ted was an accomplished contributor to the open source software movement, releasing many software packages whose development was in progress from time to time as his focus moved from one area to another. His most recent framework was very nearly in the alpha stage, and he had extensive plans for possible next steps, and indeed for entirely new projects to pursue.”

The minister smiled at the mourners in a paternal way. “That all sounds very impressive, speaking strictly as a layman.”

An infant called out, happy and without a care in the world, and there was more laughter.

“Now we come to a matter that will be familiar to everyone in the room, I’m quite sure,” the minister said, pausing for effect to look around once more. “Social media.”

The nods and the laughter were unfettered now, and the widow rolled her eyes elaborately and to great effect.

“Ted was a social creature by nature,” the minister said, “and he was always to be found on this site or that, posting his thoughts and his comments, sharing photos of his family, and setting the world to rights on politics, technology, and just about every possible thing that a man can have an opinion on — which is apparently everything.”

There was a rumble of assent from all present, and encouraged by this, the minister continued.

“His many and varying contributions on the internet were perhaps Ted’s greatest endeavour and achievement, and certainly his largest body of work. If there was something to be endorsed or denounced, you could be sure that Ted had already taken care of it.”

He allowed the amusement to run its course and then die down organically, expertly signalling the change in tone by softening his smile and letting his gaze become compassionate once more.

“Ted was very much loved by all who knew him,” he said. “He leaves behind his wife, his son, and his daughter; his friends and his extended family; his colleagues and his acquaintances. But also his work, and the fragments of his projects underway, and all of his plans for the future. In them, we find not the sadness of things unfinished, but the joy of a man of so much potential, whose life so many were privileged to share.”

The minister raised his arms at either side of the pulpit.

“Let us pray,” he said.

JINX

KESTREL face a new and terrifying enemy: an all-seeing mastermind who already knows exactly who they are, and many of their deepest secrets. Nothing stays hidden forever, and the line between privacy and liberty is razor-thin…

Book 3 in the KESTREL action-thriller series.

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