Whose Funeral is This Anyway?

Robert Allan Poe stood with Pierre Amontillado at the top of the hill overlooking a funeral in progress. "I thought you said this young lady was an orphan, then where did all of these people come from?" Robert asked. "Why are those people just standing around the coffin?" Pierre asked. "If these people are not her members of her family, then who are they?"

"All of these people are lightjumpers." He replied. "What does lightjumper mean?" Robert asked. "This is what happens to people who decide they are not ready to go into to the light. Does that sound familiar to you, Robert?" Pierre nudged him in the ribs. "Neither did you, so I don't see how you can even compare me without including yourself." Robert complained. "Since you've shunned the light, haven't you ever been to a funeral?" Pierre strangely inquired. "Are you joshing me? I didn't even attend my own?" He replied. "Please, don't tell me that you attended your own funeral?" He smirked. "Of course I did, when you're struck down in the line of duty the city throws a parade and all that rot." Pierre gloated. "Sorry, old man, but you have never struck me as a man who basks in his own vanity." Robert remarked. "It was a different time, we appreciated life in a way that you could never even fathom, after all, you are still a young man, Robert."

"You say I'm young, Pierre, I can't get much younger than I am right now." He shrugged. "These should be the lesser of your troubles, Robert, you should have gone to your own funeral, then you would have seen the lightjumpers, the souls of the dead who have not gone into the light use another's funeral to cross over into the light." Pierre groaned. "What's this you're going on about now?" Roberts exclaimed. "Before I tell you what I am so angry about, first you'll have to answer me this, have you noticed any mysterious beams of light being drawn up into the sky?" Pierre asked. "No, why is that important?"

"Every funeral isn't complete without a stream of light being lowered from the casket then rising up into the clouds."

"And why is that?" He smirked. "Because if there is no light, it means this young lady has not found her way to the light; something is definitely wrong." Pierre remarked. "What does this mean?" He asked. "Like the two of us, Robert, she was murdered." Pierre was seen sadly shaking his head.