Impossible Numbers' Flashfic Anthology, Volume One

by Impossible Numbers

It's The Memory That Counts

In sweltering Ammonia, Pharaoh’s son raged. The servants emerged from the catacombs.

“While our crops wither,” he muttered.

“There’s more to ponydom than bodies,” said Pharaoh miserably.

“Leaving good food to the dead!? They’re dead! We’re not! Yet.”

“Food gifts are traditional,” said Pharaoh, sighing.

One sigh too many. Sullenly, Pharaoh’s son departed. That night, he crept from palace to catacombs and soon found the bread.

“For my subjects… friends…”

Exactly, said a voice.

He knew that voice. He turned around. Sweating.

Shadow.

Even now, I see your tears.

“I-I’m s-still t-t-taking it.” He swallowed. “S-Sorry.”

Me too. Take a message? Tell your father I’m honoured, but my subjects need it more.

“Y-Yes. Of course! I-I will honour your memory.” He wiped his eyes.

Good. At least someone will. Also tell him he clearly doesn’t remember me, the nincompoop.

“Yes… Mother. I think I’ll leave that last part out, though…”

Comments

[redmar]

It seems there is a reason that food gifts are left for the ancestors. The living should of course have more priority than the dead.