Just a little something I was kicking around when playing HM: Friends of Mineral Town.

The skies, they are cloudy. How fitting, it seems the sun is even mourning our loss today.

My friends, I do not have to tell you why we have gathered here this morning.

Whose voice is that? Oh, yes, that's right. Carter has begun the service, this town's final farewells.

We have come to bid our sister farewell, and offer prayers as she returns to the Goddess' bosom.

"To the Goddess' bosom?" Will she be any safer there, will her strangled gasps for air flow more easily as she clutches to the Harvest Goddess instead of me?

Why would she be any better off with Her than me? I am her flesh and blood! Did the Goddess care for her when she had a cold, when she fell and hurt her head, when the winter's chill cut through her covers and she shivered in the middle of the night? Would the Goddess prepare her breakfast for her in the morning, sit and help her eat, tell she loved her as she skirted off to the clinic?

Heavenly Goddess, we thank you for the time you have given us, what little time it seems we have gotten to spend with Ellen.

Oh, Carter, why must you carry on? She is gone; the only thing left to us now is her shell, the husk of a body. You said as much yourself to me and Jack after she had passed, your gentle words trying to sooth a grieving husband and his bitter, powerless wife. With all my experience working at the clinic, I could not save her life when it counted, when she could have used it, when she needed it! Why must she pay for my incompetence?

We know that life is uncertain, and that we do not have an eternity on your green earth. We must live each moment to the fullest. None knew this more than our Ellen.

My poor Jack, he looks worn. I have seen the man plow fields loaded with debris, wrestle with the earth, and reap bountiful harvests on his own, and he never looked this bad. Not even when a cave in at the Spring mine trapped him for three days did he look this bad. His skin looks pale and he slouches with a look of defeat spread across his face. Worse is, my poor husband's eyes are just empty. We are standing side by side, hand in hand, and he feels so far away from me. I know why though, he blames himself. He thinks he should have been able to do something, should have at least seen a sign that she was sick before it was too late. Poor Jack. He ignores me when I tell him otherwise; when I tell him he is wrong, that it is my fault, not his. He just grabs me, holds me tight, and sobs. How could it be his fault? He wasn't trained to spot illness, to cure it. He wasn't charged with this town's health like we are, me and Doc.

Doc, he blames himself too. Saying if he had only known more, perhaps knew more about diseases, known more about medicine, he could have saved her. But he is wrong, he hadn't live with her. Doc, for all his knowledge and expertise, didn't know her like I did. He couldn't read her moods with just a glance, he couldn't tell when she was trying to hide something from me, when she thought I might get upset over some silly thing she might have done.

He stands across from my family, well, what's left of it. He has the most serious expression on his face. No doubt spurred on by his own thoughts about his inadequacies as a doctor. I'm sure Jack's outburst as she was pronounced dead doesn't help either. Doc was only doing his job, and Jack was desperately searching for something to focus his pain on. I told Doc so, told him Jack didn't mean it. He only nodded to me sadly, his eyes not meeting mine. It isn't your fault Doc, quit blaming yourself.

Her laughter would brighten a room, her smile could lift any mood, and she spread joy to all who met her. I remember when I first met her.

Joy, she did bring joy, she made us all so happy. Especially Stu. Oh, little brother. You've seemed to take her death as hard as me.

If Stu blames himself like Jack and Doc, he hasn't said so. He seems to have just bottled up. My silly, prank-loving Stu looks so sad. He stands next to me, opposite of Jack, and his eyes do not leave the casket. I can see tear stains running down his cheeks. Even after all this time, you still are not too old to cry, are you Stu?

You've grown so big, and you always would say how much a man you are now. You always acted so tough, especially around her. You just wanted her to be able to depend on you, and you wanted to protect her, just as much as me or Jack.

Don't you see? She did depend on you! You were such a joy to her. She felt safe when you were near. You did nothing wrong! Stop blaming yourself for something that your horrible sister failed to catch. Stop holding my hand, clutching it like I was the only thing keeping you safe. I obviously am not able to keep those I love safe.

Her joy is now filling Heaven's halls, infecting all who dwell within with her contagious smile.

It should be me down there. Not her.

We all shall miss our sister, but we cannot carry on like we have no hope; that we will never see her again.

Hope…You speak of hope! She is gone! Even though she may be in paradise now, that leaves us stuck here! Her family is now broken! Taken away before her time, before we could even say good bye! I'll never be able to wake her up in the morning with a kiss, never be able to tuck her in at night, I will never hear her say "I love you" ever again!

She is waiting for us, waiting for when our time on the Goddess' earth is complete. She will be there with open arms and her wonderful smile!

Why couldn't you have taken me, the one who failed? Why take her away from us when I was the one who couldn't save her?!

And it is because of this assurance, this certainty that we will see Ellen again, that we commit her body back from whence it came.

No… don't take her from me!

From earth to earth…

Don't lower her yet!

From ashes to ashes…

I never said good bye!

From dust to dust.

Don't leave me!!

She… she is gone now. The earth has swallowed her up. The horrible box that held her frail form is now buried deep below ground. All the people, our friends, walked by and left a white rose on her casket as it descended. White, for purity and innocence. She was innocent. Young and innocent.

Everyone has left, gone back to their daily lives no doubt. Just Jack and I alone are left at her…grave. It sounds so final. I suppose it is.

Jack is no longer standing. His powerful legs could no longer hold his weight, so he resorted to stooping down on his hands and knees, just inches from the freshly packed soil. My poor husband avoided that soil, the tainted soil that holds little Ellen away from us. He just wept, letting his tears stain the earth and his cries echo off the tombstone, echo back towards me.

I'm so sorry Jack. My tears seem to have escaped me. I feel cold…numb… I'm not even sure anymore. All I can do is stare at the horrible slab of stone tasked to tell the world exactly who rests just beneath its feet.

Ellen Harvest II

Beloved child of the light

Cherished by the Goddess

May she love your smile as much as we

1943 – 1949 A.D.

Maybe great gram gram will read you a story and tuck you in if you ask nicely. Mommy… Mommy can't see you any-

Oh Ellen… Mommy is so sorry…

Okay, so that wasn't typical Harvest Mooniness. I'm sure it was a little confusing the further you get to the end, but that was intentional. Grief can make people think in very weird ways.

I know it was a very morose number, but I hope you still enjoyed it.