Page 128 - Dark Matter Issue5 Part II

(Annie enters ringing a ritual bell; Uncle carries in Sniffley’s body in a hand-made

box. John joins the funeral procession, they arrive at a clearing in the woods.

Uncle places the small box on the ground. Then Rebecca joins the group,

coming from her walk. Annie removes her hat and stares at her father until he

does the same.)

ANNIE: Sniffley came when I called. Sniffley ate from my hand. Sniffley liked

oatmeal cookies into which instead of raisins I would bake some flies. Sniffley

listened. This is a quality of soul most rare in humans. Sniffley looked out at the

universe with a clear gaze. He wanted nothing more than to be. This is what I

learned from Sniffley: I was seen and I was heard. I was. I am. Sniffley was.

He/she/me/birl/Sniffley-boy-girl, the world is far more precious for you lived.

Those who knew Sniffley, I would now like each to say a few words.

(Silence)

JOHN: What struck me most about Sniffley, despite his deformity, which meant

that every time he jumped he nearly fell on his face, was how utterly dignified he

was.

REBECCA: I shall miss his frog song, morning and night; I shall miss his croaks.

UNCLE: I shall be brief. I have said it before and I shall say it again: where is

Sniffley, now? In that slim slice of air that surrounds the earth, our atmosphere,

no thicker from space than tissue paper. We are breathing him in. Sniffley is now

of us; we are of him. So, it goes, in death we unite. We are no more alone. We

become. Enough. Being is.

(During Annie’s song, Frank enters and stands outside the group, observing.)

ANNIE: I should now like to close with a song:

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