A Belated Eulogy

by K.G. Song

Clearing out my dad’s house, impregnated with the scents of a single man who lived alone for two decades accompanied only by the walls of books, wore me down after eight days. A mountain of books and unpaid bills pretty much summed up his life. On the ninth day, however, I found a stack of notebooks meant for his eyes only, hidden behind magazines, and they tainted the memories of him forever and completely. My loving father who bought me mint chocolate ice creams on hot summer days at the county festival and taught me how to fish turned out to be a monster and murderer. The fireplace burned for three days consuming the notebooks, all his books, and everything that belonged to him. The most befitting way to offer a belated eulogy I could think of to my murdered mother.

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K.G. Song lives in Los Angeles in Southern California with his wife and a parrot. After rediscovering the pure delight of creative writing during the pandemic lockdown, he continues to craft flash fictions, short stories, and poems each day as he learns how to retire properly.