Fiction: Flying toasts, irritable cats, three-legged witches, a duck and a funeral wake

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by David M. Gascoigne and is hosted at Elephant's Child's blog over here. This week's prompts are: solar, polls, true, people, indication and/or celestial, temperature, concern, obvious, surreal. I used the second half of the prompts.

Fiction: Flying toasts, irritable cats, three-legged witches, a duck and a funeral wake

The funeral wake, for it was a funeral wake, was held in Aunt Tella's 100-year-old, three-story Victorian house. Mrs. Sigh, Aunt Tella's housekeeper, explained it must be a funeral wake as Tella liked to combine things to save time though she was not religious but she sometimes attended church when she was in a bad mood. As Mrs. Sigh put on a record of celestial music, she said the cool temperature and the half dark sky was just right for a burial.   
    It was a small gathering consisted of the priest, Father Thyme, four men from the funeral service, Mrs. Sigh, Dimple Caroline Small, niece and only relative of Aunt Tella and if you counted the corpse, Aunt Tella.
    Standing beside the opened casket, Father Thyme was making his speech about life and death. On his left, Dimple stood. She eyed the piles of toast across the room on the large table full of breakfast food. The toast was another thing Mrs. Sigh said was what her aunt would want. Mrs. Sigh also insisted there would be no bright red orange things as Aunt Tella disliked the color. Dimple wondered if that was all Mrs. Sigh's concern - what Aunt Tella would want - she spoke of nothing else. It was obvious Mrs. Sigh had a fondness for Tella though she was old enough to be Tella's mother but still called her Aunt Tella.
    A group of strangers entered Dimple's peripheral view. She turned her head to get a better look. There was the three pairs of old women who were bond to each other by their legs and walked as if they were three-legged. The seven old men looked like models for mens clothing all dressed in well-pressed suits with well-groomed beards and mustaches. The six white cats with one having a black spot on its back loitered with eyes full of intentions. The little girls and boys all appeared as if they had been rolling in mud while wearing their finest. They left muddy prints on the wooden floor. All appeared comfortable as if they were at home.
    Father Thyme was still talking. His drone voice seemed to have no pause even as the strangers came closer. It took a while to get any kind of answers from Father Thyme. When you asked him a question, he would think it over for about a minute or more and sometimes fell asleep with eyes opened but he did say Aunt Tella was a recluse so who were these strangers? Dimple wondered.
    It was rumored Aunt Tella was a witch, not the kind with an aquiline nose though she did have one, or the kind who talked with a raspy voice or gave you a creepy vibe, no she was the kind who could alter the weather, turn you into any creature she desires, move objects with just a thought, change your mind about anything and most importantly, cause your soul to shiver and maybe die with a single look. Of course, almost no one believed such things and yet, who could say they weren't true?   
    Standing there surrounded by the odd strangers, Dimple began to wonder about her aunt. She had never met the woman and didn't know she existed until last month by a call from Laws, Misdemeanors & Sons.
    After Father Thyme finished his speech, one pair of women, one old and the other slightly older was the first to come up. One of each leg was bond to the other but they walked quite easy as one. "We knew Tella for about twenty years," said the younger of the two, though she must be in her early sixties. "She was a dear, sweet but wicked witch." The woman laughed, raspy and short.
    "Oh, Hilda, really. That is not a nice thing to say," said the older woman.
    "Matilda, it was the truth. She was quite wicked but she never did anything remotely cruel to anyone. She had always said, 'Life is sweet if you treat people just as sweet,'" said Hilda. "Tella was sweetness itself minus the sometimes wickedness. We shall miss her dear—"
    There was a loud laugh that echoed throughout the room followed by the appearance of black smoke.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A man with tan skin faintly lined and dressed in complete black that matched his eyes and shiny, comb-backed hair stepped out of the dissipating black smoke. He sashayed toward the casket with heavy steps and pulled out a small vial from his jacket pocket and dropped all the purple liquid onto Aunt Tella. Smoke arise from her body. The man sneered as he threw the vial onto the floor though it didn't shatter. "At last, I have my revenge. Rest in peace, Tella," he said with a sonorous voice.
    Dimple didn't know what to do. She looked toward the others but all eyes were on the man. "Who the hell are you and why have you poured liquid on Aunt Tella?"
    "Didn't your aunt tell you anything?" said the man in black, raising a well-groomed black eyebrow.
    Dimple looked toward the others. They were all looking at the man. She turned back to the man. "I didn't know Aunt Tella. I've never met her."
    "Ah, right. You're the mysteries niece, the one she said she didn't have. I see you've got her temperament and her nose." The man sneered. "I am Lord Basil. Your aunt killed my beloved Mangy so she deserves to die. It's too bad she is already dead or else I would kill her but here you are. Her relation. Perfect timing." He produced a wooden stick from his jacket pocket and pointed at Dimple. "Au revoir, niece."
    "Don't you hurt my auntie!" said a little girl with two black braids as she stepped in front of Dimple.
    Auntie? Dimple had never seen the little girl before.
    "Do you think I should take orders from a child?" Basil flicked his stick and the little girl went sailing through the air. Dimple rushed toward her but the girl slipped past her but one of the men caught her. Her scream turned into giggles.
    How dare he come to my aunt's house, harmed a child and insulted my nose? Dimple glared at the man who met her eyes. He was smiling. How dare he smiled? And what kind of name is Basil?
    Thunder sounded. Outside, it became dark as night and rain started pouring down. The lights started flicking. Everyone looked around them but Dimple kept her eyes on Basil who still held her gaze. He lifted his stick and pointed at Dimple but she was pushed out of the way as lightning struck the wooden floor. She turned to her savior - an old man with gleaming eyes and a full beard that was half gray on the left and half black on the right. "Thank you," she said. He smiled at her and helped her to her feet but she was pulled to another side as Basil sent another round of lightning toward her.
    Men and women surrounded Basil and blocked Dimple's view. Colorful smoke started to cloud the room. Dimple couldn't see much but she heard shoutings, cries and moans. "Get the children out of the house!" someone shouted. There was much noise and movements. Some of the cats were crying like babies, at least, Dimple thought it was the cats. She kept being moved here and there and yet, she saw none of the people who moved her. This was madness! Her parents always told her she should control her anger and not allow it to control her. She took in a deep breath which was a terrible mistake as the air was acrid. If she could open some windows or doors, perhaps the smoke would clear up. But all the windows were already opened including the front door as Mrs. Sigh said it was the proper thing to do at a funeral wake.
    Smoke started to clear revealing injured women and men. Basil was wrestling with one of the men. Dimple didn't know what to do so she screamed. The smoke cleared almost completely. Basil struck the man in the face and picked up his fallen stick. He glared at her but the cats started piling over him from head to toe though he retained his stick in one hand while the other one was trying to grab a cat. He muttered something Dimple couldn't understand and the cats fell off him and scattered away. Basil's face was full of scratches but he was still smiling. "Dear niece, you're still alive but not for long. Perhaps I shall fix that nose of yours. It's very unbecoming for a woman." He laughed sounding much like he was at a party. He raised his stick.
    "How dare you come here, harmed children and insulted me to my face? You—You ugly, fat duck! Take your stick and leave at once!" was all Dimple could muster out of her anger-filled head.
    The man laughed. "That was good, niece. Much like your aunt Tella." He laughed again but his face began to contour. He screamed and dropped to his knees, the stick left his hand. There was a puff of white smoke that covered the man entirely. The lights stopped flickering. The smoke cleared and there was a duck instead of a man. It was black with grey-ish-yellow beaks, gray webbed feet and was rather fat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a few moments before anyone moved or spoke. The celestial music carried on in the background. Outside, the rain had stopped and the sky brightened slightly. There were a few moans but everyone was quietly staring from the duck to Dimple, back and forth. She looked from one face to another. What just happened? The women were smiling and the men were trying to keep a straight face.
     "Gentlemen, would one of you please remove the duck?" said Matilda. One man, probably the youngest of all though he must be at least fifty years old, gathered up the duck with some difficulty and was soon carrying it away. Most of the couches and chairs, were a bit burnt or torn but the table of food was intact and the casket remained shiny and clean. The children returned, looking somber.
    Father Thyme, with his gown a bit ruffled, came to stand beside the casket and said, "Shall we continue to celebrate Aunt Tella's life?"
    Matilda and Hilda came up. Matilda turned to Hilda and nodded. "As I was saying earlier before all those rude interruptions, Tella was sweetness itself minus the sometimes wickedness. We shall miss her dearly. But mostly we're sorry to lose our bet. The reasons we had to bind our legs and walked like three-legged kittens was that we made a bet with Aunt Tella. If she goes first, we had to attend her funeral three-legged and vice versa although who she was going three-legged with, we don't know. We thought she would loose since most of us are older than she was. But that's life." Hilda smiled at Dimple. Dimple smiled back.
    There were giggles and they all turned toward the casket. A small child was smiling with an arm around a white cat, both sitting on top of Aunt Tella's chest. How they got there without anyone noticing, Dimple wondered.
    "I'm so sorry, Miss Small," said a man with a black mustache. He rushed to the casket and picked up the child but the cat jumped away and landed on Father Thyme's head. He tried to brush the cat away but he began to sneeze violently and the cat simply leapt off him and raced out one of the windows.
    "Will someone helped Father Thyme to a chair? Thank you, Fred," said Hilda as another man with a clean-shaven face but bald came forward and took Father Thyme to a couch. Father Thyme was a bit red with his eyes half-opened. He didn't appear to be able to continue anything.
    Matilda banged a stick against the casket's side. "Let's continue." Hilda looked about the room. "Silla and Milla, don't you have something to say?" The pair of identical blondes were brief with their words. As well as the others that came after. Dimple didn't have anything to say as she had never knew Aunt Tella. Mrs. Sigh, who Dimple didn't recall seeing after Basil showed up, ended the funeral wake with a few memories of meeting Tella and becoming her housekeeper.
    Afterward, everyone was staring at the food but not many touched them. If Dimple's foster parents were here, they would throw all of it away as they don't believe in eating inedible food. Would it be mad to think the toasts flying about and striking people in the face? Dimple smiled at the thought. Why was she thinking of such things?
    "Look!" one of the girls shouted. The toasts were lifting themselves up and flying around the room. Dimple looked toward the men and women but not one of them seemed surprised or troubled even as they dodged the toasts. The cats and the children started trying to catch the flying toasts. Father Thyme was snoring. Mrs. Sigh was busy cleaning the floor with a mop. Was this normal when Aunt Tella was alive? Dimple wondered. Everything seemed rather surreal to her.
    The flying toasts suddenly all dropped to the floor. The cats gravitated toward them much like the children until there were scattered bits of bread everywhere. One of the gentleman and Mrs. Sigh cleared them away with dustpans and brooms and walked off together toward the kitchen.
    Dimple looked around the room at the faces. These strangers had protected her - a stranger to them. She smiled at Matilda and the other men and women. "Thank you, all of you, for... saving me." Though Dimple still didn't quite believe what she saw. She had a sudden desire to get to know these people. Perhaps one day, they will be her family.
    "Hello? Anyone here?"
    They all turned about looking around. After a while, most eyes landed upon the casket which should had been moved for burial but the service men had ran off in the chaos.
    Dimple stared in disbelief. The others also were staring with a few laughing and crying.
    Aunt Tella was sitting up in the casket but most of her clothes were in tatters. She coughed and waved her hand about. "That damm Basil. Always used too much pepper in his potions. Well, isn't anyone going to help me out of here?" Two men lifted her up and out of the casket. Everyone gathered around her but Dimple stood, not knowing what to do.
    Aunt Tella came over to Dimple and put a arm around her. "My dear, good job on the duck. Come now, let's go and make something to eat. These food Mrs. Sigh put out is not fit for anyone." Then she lowered her voice and added, "She's a terrible cook. Good housekeeper but a terrible cook." She smiled and led Dimple toward the kitchen but then turned around. "I should probably changed first. Wouldn't want the children to see my unmentionables." She laughed. The two climbed the stairs. There was so much Dimple wanted to ask and say but she decided there would be time later. After all, her aunt was not dead yet - her words as she started to explain how she faked her death and what a lovely funeral wake it was.