75 DEATH BECOMES YOU  

jasonabadboy4u 29M
48 posts
6/17/2006 1:36 am

Last Read:
8/13/2006 8:44 am

75 DEATH BECOMES YOU

75 DEATH BECOMES YOU
Vincent felt stifled in his Halloween costume. He couldn't figure out why. It was just a mourning suit: solemn dark homespun, starched white shirt, and a string tie that gave him a sort of nineteenth-century look. The fit was a little tight, but not so tight that he should feel this uncomfortable. He felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't wait to leave the party. He had decided to dress up like a corpse only after coming across the outfit in an under visited corner of the costume store. The proprietor had assured him it was the genuine article: authentic nineteenth-century mortuary garb, the kind of suit they buried folks in back then, guaranteed to make him look like he'd risen from the grave. Vincent daubed at trickles of sweat running down his ghostly white face, trying not to smudge the white pancake makeup and eye shadow he'd used to give himself that dead-alive look. The cloth of the suit was not absorbing any of the liquid. It didn't surprise him in the least. He'd known upon picking the suit up that it had been treated with powerful chemicals. There was an aroma of something pungent and alcoholic in the corner of the costume shop. Then he realized the smell was coming from the suit. The thing must have been bombed with some sort of super-mothball. It seemed to have worked. The fabric was in beautiful shape, and there had actually been several moth carcasses laying on the floor under the rack it hung on. The sales clerk had convinced Vincent the smell would dissipate once it was taken outdoors. They also dropped the price a few bucks. Vincent stared in envy at the people parading past him dressed as creatures of the night. Even the tightly wrapped mummies were having more fun than he was. The first wave of wooziness hi him as he pushed away from his chair. He felt light-headed and fuzzy. He needed fresh air he thought, but the door to the outside balcony looked unusually far away, Like he was seeing it through a dark tunnel. The path to it was an obstacle course of loud partyers he wasn't up to dealing with. He sought out the bedroom behind him. It was only a few steps away, but it also seemed to take forever to reach it. His legs had become heavy, and every step drained his strength sway. When he finally made it into the dark room, he knew he had to get off his feet, and his body obliged, plunging him down into a bottomless pit that he knew was really only a drop of about three feet onto the bed. Vincent folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, willing for the weird feeling to pass. But, It didn't He felt a tingling on his back, where the costume was pressing into his skin. The tingling turned into a dull warmth, then fiery discomfort. He tried to lift himself up, but couldn't. The faint light from the hallway was dimming slowly, but he knew the lights outside were shining brightly. He turned his head with great effort toward the door, saw partyers passing by-but he could hear no sound. The irritation of the suit was giving way to a numb feeling. He couldn't move. He sensed nothing. He felt as though he'd been buried alive inside his own body. Darkness blanketed him. They found Vincent later when a couple went into the room to make out. And felt his cold corpse lying there in the bed with them. His body lay in perfect sleep-like posture, with hands neatly crossed and face pointing straight up toward the ceiling. In the mourning suit, he looked like a perfectly dressed corpse. And he was. The medical examiner's report on the cause of death made no sense whatsoever--until Vincent's outfit was traced back to the costume store. The proprietor told the police the same thing he had told Vincent, about the mourning suit's authenticity. It didn't make a lot of sense to the cops, but it did to the mortician who prepared Vincent for burial. A century ago, mortuary science was much cruder and techniques of preservation more primitive. It wasn't uncommon to completely impregnate a corpse with preservatives so that the corpse would stay fresh longer during the mourning period. There were reports of mourners being overcome by the volatile chemical fumes in houses where a dressed corpse was being viewed. The fabric of Vincent's corpse costume was completely saturated with embalming fluid. And within hours of donning it, so was Vincent. Worse of all was later when all the facts were in order. The costume shop where the mourning suit was bought from, was used as a funeral home in the past, and was later turned into a costume shop.


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