Making Monsters Read Free

turned up the classical music in an effort to drown out the angry voices. Malia rose
from her seat, glanced around the room, and smoothing her dress, went in search of the
disturbance.
    She ambled along the ornate passageway decorated in red velvet wall paper with a gilded
Fleur-de-Lis design stamped into the flocking, and gold sconces brandished false candlelight
every few feet. Serene black and white photos littered the wall in small, dark wood frames.
Oversized chairs, upholstered in black leather, lined the corridor at intervals. Malia made the
conscious decision to get the fuck out of there if the lights started flickering. Why the hell would
Elise pick this funeral home? She wondered as she passed the opening to another hallway. The
long passageway was wrought with shadows, and one lone lamp gave off a sickly, yellow glow
at the far end.
    Malia lingered at the mouth of the entry, when the door at the other end was thrown open,
hitting the wall with a sharp crack . Elise stepped out, waving her hands. A man followed her, his
rotund frame stuffed in to a plain, navy suit. His neck tie pushed the excess skin on his throat up
and over the collar of his dress shirt. He shook his head, and the protrusion looked like a waddle,
bobbing to and fro. His thinning combover didn’t hide the hint of shine from his balding scalp.
    “Mrs. Walt, I can assure you this has never happened. The body was fully intact when we
inspected it—when picking it up from the morgue.” The man’s high pitched whine pierced
Malia’s ears.
    “Yet, you wait till the day before interment to tell me. Explain to me again, Mr. Stein, how
the hell do you lose body parts between here and the morgue?” Elise’s voice was tight with
controlled anger.
    “No one noticed the missing limbs
until early this morning, when the mortician started to
prepare the body. We had a late start—we’ve been rather busy, as I’m sure you know.” Mr. Stein
reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He patted his brow.
“How the hell do you miss a pelvic bone and left leg?” Elise screamed.
    The shouting spurred Malia into action. Scurrying down the hall, she placed a hand on
Elise’s arm. Closer to her friend and under the pale yellow glow, she could see the tears that
clung to Elise’s lashes. With a swipe of her hand, Elise hurriedly brushed at her eyes, smearing
eyeliner across her cheek. Her mouth worked for several moments before she actually spoke.
“He can’t be buried with missing body parts, Malia.” Elise wobbled on her heels as she
turned into Malia’s embrace.
     
“Let’s just get through the wake.” Malia looked at the funeral home director.
     
His head bobbed in an up and down motion; his hair fluttered forward. “Yes, yes, we can
straighten this out after the wake.”
    Malia wrapped her other arm around her friend, gently tugging her along, anxious to get her
out of the gloom. She refused to look behind her, focusing instead on taking one step at a time.
Making sure she got Elise a little closer to the light that flooded the front rooms, and away from
the malevolency which hung in the very edge of the shadows. She grimaced from the bite of
Elise’s nails into her forearm. By the time they made it to their reserve seats set before the
casket, the sitting room had filled to capacity.
    She sat Elise with R
ich’s parents and gave a quick rub to her friend’s shoulder before
stepping away. She straightened and stared at the half open casket. Rich lay nestled in ivory
satin. The peaceful appearance of sleep etched his face. He was a good man, you could tell
simply by the show of people that came to pay their respects.
    A short nod at acquaintances as she passed them, she hoped her grimace had some
semblance of a smile. She headed toward the wide porch which wrapped around the funeral
home. Malia pulled her cell phone from the side pocket of her purse and quickly tapped Paul’s
number. He answered on the