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John Mortonson's Funeral

John Mortonson was dead: his lines in 'the tragedy "Man"' had all been spoken and he had left the stage.

The body rested in a fine mahogany coffin fitted with a plate of glass. All arrangements for the funeral had been so well attended to that had the deceased known he would doubtless have approved. The face, as it showed under the glass, was not disagreeable to look upon: it bore a faint smile, and as the death had been painless, had not been distorted beyond the repairing power of the undertaker. At two o'clock of the afternoon the friends were to assemble to pay their last tribute of respect to one who had no further need of friends and respect. The surviving members of the family came severally every few minutes to the casket and wept above the placid features beneath the glass. This did them no good; it did no good to John Mortonson; but in the presence of death reason and philosophy are silent.

As the hour of two approached the friends began to arrive and after offering such consolation to the stricken relatives as the proprieties of the occasion required, solemnly seated themselves about the room with an augmented consciousness of their importance in the scheme funereal. Then the minister came, and in that overshadowing presence the lesser lights went into eclipse. His entrance was followed by that of the widow, whose lamentations filled the room. She approached the casket and after leaning her face against the cold glass for a moment was gently led to a seat near her daughter. Mournfully and low the man of God began his eulogy of the dead, and his doleful voice, mingled with the sobbing which it was its purpose to stimulate and sustain, rose and fell, seemed to come and go, like the sound of a sullen sea. The gloomy day grew darker as he spoke; a curtain of cloud underspread the sky and a few drops of rain fell audibly. It seemed as if all nature were weeping for John Mortonson.

When the minister had finished his eulogy with prayer a hymn was sung and the pall-bearers took their places beside the bier. As the last notes of the hymn died away the widow ran to the coffin, cast herself upon it and sobbed hysterically. Gradually, however, she yielded to dissuasion, becoming more composed; and as the minister was in the act of leading her away her eyes sought the face of the dead beneath the glass. She threw up her arms and with a shriek fell backward insensible.

The mourners sprang forward to the coffin, the friends followed, and as the clock on the mantel solemnly struck three all were staring down upon the face of John Mortonson, deceased.

They turned away, sick and faint. One man, trying in his terror to escape the awful sight, stumbled against the coffin so heavily as to knock away one of its frail supports. The coffin fell to the floor, the glass was shattered to bits by the concussion.

From the opening crawled John Mortonson's cat, which lazily leapt to the floor, sat up, tranquilly wiped its crimson muzzle with a forepaw, then walked with dignity from the room.

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Average: 5 (1 vote)

Comments

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well done

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cool story

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in order for you to understand this story its necessary that you realize what stylistic categories he focuses on. bierce was a somewhat of a dark satirist. in this story the "punchline" comes when the cat comes out of the coffin and walks casually away. essentially what this point is showing is that nature is irreverent and unconcerned. the family mourning and the wife flailing her arms is an obvious contrast to the cat casually strolling out of the coffin oblivious to the feelings of man.

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glad some people seem to understand the point of this story, I think its not bad at all, and ironical indeed. And whats that about "adjective placement anyway"? One question: is the "crimson muzzle" crimson because of what I think?

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I like how the unexpected and the humurous happens. You think that when everyone makes a horrible face and freaks out that there was something so drastically horrible, or that a tornado was on its way, but its just the cat, the hungry cat...

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I think this story is better filmed than written so that the humor on it could be better appreciated. THe first part of the story shouldve been made scarier. Its just an ordinary description of whats in a funeral party, nothing special or scary.
And the ending?well, its supposed to be funny if the first part had been really,really scary.Improvise pls!

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wow!

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This story is very stupid and point less do not read. Please spare your self the time read something like twilight or the notebook something with romancy and meaning. If your too late and already read it well im soory that you had to.
With love/Kalley

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This is an awesome story the actual
meaning of it is that we think too
much about the death. Funerals ,
solemn speeches, we think we should
respect the dead and so much stupid
stuff, but in the end the cat which
doesnt have all these pretensions just
uses the dead body for its most useful
purpose, nutrients.

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Wowwww

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Fools! Ambrose Bierce is an historical
figure, a Civil War hero - and was a
prolific writer of short stories,
novels, and articles. He became famous
as a sort of curmudgeon in his day (he
died, or rather, disappeared, in the
early 1900s). If you look him up on
Wikipedia, you might be a little
surprised by the man who wrote what you
claim is boring and meaningless.
This story is obviously Bierces
sarcastic way of dealing with the
subject of death in society. Its as if
he is saying, "look, even the cat
doesnt care about all this pomp and
circumstance, so why should we?"
The people who leave comments on this
site sometimes appear brainless and
ignorant to me. You like stories with
action because you dont have to think
about them. I like stories like this
one because it makes me ponder on the
authors meaning.

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I rated your story a 3/5. I gave your
story this rating because your punctuation
and such are great. Your sentence fluency
is nice and your voice shows. I gave you
the 3 because although you have great
technique the story was not numerous and
the ending was abrupt. The ending also did
not make much sense.
Your short story partially reminds me of a
story by edger allen poe. You probably
could change the end of the story to a
more humorous ending. It seems like you
were trying to hard to get the end to be
funny.

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The story works. But like a lot of fiction it has faults that show if one things a little bit. The cat would hardly be quiet inside a casket for any length of time. And if the cat did feast on the corpse there really would not be much, if any, blood. Modern embalming removes blood and what remains congeals and stains little if at all. Ever cut up a deer or do any butchering?

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This short story seems to make a contrast
between the many lives of a cat and that
one chance at the life of a human. The
"crimson" adjective implies the reason the
cat was in the coffin, possibly chasing a
mouse. Which implies as well the cycle of
life. Its food for thought.

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