The Emotion Thief
Alana was born in the 80’s and grew up in the countryside of West Sussex. She was an only child to parents who had left it late to have children, Rob and Rose. Their cottage was in the shadows of Chanctonbury Ring, a prehistoric hill fort along the South Downs. It would have been a wonderful place to grow up, if she had someone to play with. Without a sibling it was a lonely experience, her dog, Trent was her best friend. He was a black and white Border Collie, a friendly boy who loved an adventure.
Alana’s parents were high-flyers in the insurance world and were well off. Work and wealth were their priority, Alana always felt she was a result of something they didn’t really want. She was more of an accessory, like a new BMW or a Prada handbag. By the time she was in school Rob and Rose were in their fifties, they looked like grandparents at the school gate. They didn’t mingle well with other parents and Alana was never allowed to have parties or sleepovers, so she struggled to form close relationships. There were girls she hung around with in school but never out of it.
Her cottage was lovely and had a big garden, it had a swing in it which Alana would spend hours on. Trent had a good life with lots of space to exercise and sniff around. He particularly loved his once a week walk up Chanctonbury Ring. It would take around fifty minutes to reach the top up the steep slippery slopes. The view from the top was outstanding and on a clear day the coast would be visible. Trent would be free to run about off the lead, he would investigate every nook and cranny, sniffing everything he could.
When Alana was in high school, she was allowed to walk up the hill by herself. She loved having the responsibility of looking after Trent and walking at her own pace. Her parents would often bore her with questions about schoolwork and exams. On her own she was free to do as she pleased. She’d often see other dog walkers and would enjoy a brief chat with some, usually about the weather or the dogs.
On paper, Alana had a wonderful life. Both parents at home, wealthy, a lovely home, achieving at school and had a beautiful dog. However, she knew there was something missing, a human companion, someone she could confide in, share secrets and dreams and just hang out with. She loved her parents although they were a little aloof, she craved a friend or sibling. The neighbours were mostly elderly and there were no children to befriend, they had grown up moved on.
As she got older, she was ushered into a career with her parents. It started with learning the ropes, admin. A dull start to her employment career, however, she now had her own money and didn’t have to pay rent at home, so she was able to save up. Living and working with her parents wasn’t too bad as she was in a different department and they shared lifts, however she knew she would want her own space soon.
When Alana was nineteen, her nanna died, she was in her eighties, so it wasn’t a huge surprise. Alana was upset, but not enough to cry. On the day of the funeral, her mother said to her,
“You look lovely Alana, black really is your colour. Just remember, there’ll be a lot of people attending, most you won’t know, so be friendly and compassionate. There are no invitations to funerals so you never know who will turn up.”
Alana thought that was really odd.
“So mum, anyone can turn up. What if they didn’t know her?”
Her mother replied, “Why would anyone attend a funeral for someone they didn’t know? It’s just family and friends who are there to say goodbye and catch-up. It’s hardly a party.”
Alana agreed with her mother and with father in tow they went to the funeral. It was in a crematorium where they had a small chapel. Everyone looked smart and somber. Alana barely recognised anyone, there were her family members, but also people who had known her nanna that she had never met. Everyone was polite and chatty, and as the youngest granddaughter she had a great deal of attention, she loved it. It wasn’t her first funeral, but it was the only one she could remember.
Back at work there were a few young women who were nice. There were two she would meet up with at lunchtime and moan about work and boyfriends, they were called Sara and Willow. Alana was the only one who had never had a boyfriend. She’d spoken to a few boys at school, but no one had asked her out, she was labelled a ‘Plain Jane’.
Sara and Willow said she was pretty, but she wasn’t making the most of her assets. They would eat their salads and sandwiches discussing hairstyles and makeup. Alana had never been too bothered before but was happy to listen to their advice. They always spoke about going on a big shopping trip to London or Bluewater to update her wardrobe, but it never happened.
There were a few single men at work, but Alana didn’t have the confidence or the know how on how to flirt. She remained single and lonely. It wasn’t that she didn’t find some of them attractive, she was just really inexperienced.
After a few years she got promoted and had a decent pay rise with a lot more responsibilities. At the age of twenty-seven she moved into a small one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t much but a young woman needs her own space to grow and evolve. Living at home was stifling her like a canary in a cage. She wanted freedom and space to fly on her own.
Over the next few years, she went on a few dates, but nothing really materialised. She would visit her parents every weekend and sometimes took her dirty washing back for her mum to clean. Her mum liked to help, and Alana liked to be looked after. She even got herself a cat, she called it Marley. She loved Marley, he was a beautiful black cat and prowled like a panther. He kept her company and even slept in her bed.
At the age of thirty-five her mother Rose died of a heart attack. It was terrible, Alana had never felt pain like it. Her father, Rob was devastated, and she temporarily moved back into the family home to support him. Together they arranged the funeral and had made sure there was some beautiful music and poetry to read out. Alana was strong enough to stand up in front of the mourners and recite the poem, “Funeral Blues” by W.H Auden. An emotional poem which brought many to tears. As they were leaving the crematorium they’d chosen “What a Beautiful World”, by Louis Armstrong, it was amazing.
At the wake in the local pub, lots of people came and spoke to Alana. She listened to stories and relived memories with so many people, some she knew, some were strangers. With the eulogies, religious readings, and other elements of the funeral service it offered her inspiration and a renewed perspective on life. She found the day emotional but also amazing, she loved it.
A little while later an elderly aunt died and Alana attended the funeral, she hadn’t seen her aunt for years, but she wanted to make the effort. It was emotional but not for the death, Alana enjoyed the stories and the time with people in their vulnerable moments. She loved to piece together their lives, from school to work to becoming parents. It was like digging into history and seeing what these people not only brought to the world but also left. Without them, so many people wouldn’t have existed, their children, grandchildren, cousins, friends and lovers. They had left a legacy. For Alana, it led to her reflecting on her own life, values, and relationships, fostering appreciation for the present.
A few years went by, and Alana was still single and now craving for more attention, the type of interactive attention she’d received from funerals. In an odd way she had missed them and wanted more. She would check on her father’s health and make contact with other family members and tactfully ask about their wellbeing. She discovered that the older generation loved to talk about their health.
Alana wasn’t getting the buzz she needed, she wanted more funerals to get her fix. She felt a little odd about admitting it to herself, but she had to find more. She read the obituaries in the newspapers, searched online and even drove past churches and crematoriums to see if she could attend one. It sounds desperate but she needed a fix, it was like a drug, she was addicted to the emotional distress and the sympathy.
Alana eventually found a funeral of one of her old neighbours. She’d only ever walked past her with a good morning or good afternoon, but it was enough to justify her attendance.
Alana went shopping and bought herself a new black dress, black shoes and a black hat. She was dressed for the day, but more importantly, she was ready for her fix. Whilst driving to the venue alone, she was excited and even had goosebumps. She practiced her “sad face” in the rear-view mirror and had perfected it.
Whilst at the funeral she looked around and didn’t recognise anyone, Alana became nervous and thought about backing out. As she paused, an elderly lady walked past her and gave her a reassuring smile. That little touch was enough for Alana to continue into the chapel. The somber atmosphere and reflection on mortality gave her a renewed sense of purpose and appreciation for the present.
The service was lovely, and the family and friends of the deceased were visibly distressed and emotional. Alana loved to people watch and as she sat near the back she was working out who was who. There were a few young families in the front, and she thought they must be grandchildren. She had worked out a backstory when someone would inevitably ask how she knew the deceased. It was easy, she would just embellish on how close they were as neighbours.
After the funeral everyone got invited to the wake which was being held at the local sports club. The venue was a little run down, but the family had made an effort to make it look nice.
Alana had a great time, making up stories about her time with the deceased and the mourners lapped it up. She was brought a glass of wine and sat with people she had never met but was having such an intimate time with. It was incredible, she became hooked. They were sharing grief but also celebrating a life. As she left there were hugs and kisses and she felt alive.
This became a fixation, a lifestyle which continued without a hiccup for a few years. Alana would search through newspapers or online for anyone that had recently died. She now had a wardrobe full of different black outfits to choose from, and she would only attend if she could find a backstory to keep her from being found out. She didn’t want to be known as the charlatan who got her jollies from attending funerals.
One day she attended a funeral in Brighton, she’d done her homework and was ready to grieve. She was doing her usual act and began speaking to a young man. At first, Alana was doing the talking but after a few minutes the man began to talk. She quickly realised she had seen him before. He’d been at a couple of funerals that Alana had previously been to.
She asked him a few questions about his story; she wanted to dig a little deeper to find out more about him. The man, called Jason, got himself a little muddled and began contracting himself. Alana suddenly thought that this man was a fake mourner. She was annoyed that this person was taking advantage of these lovely people.
Then the penny dropped. Jason was no different to her. She had to take a few moments to understand what was happening. Alana didn’t know whether to confront him or carry on with the facade. She liked Jason, he was rugged but handsome and she wanted to know why he was stealing emotions, like her.
She decided to confront him but not straight away, she thought she’d wait until they were walking to their cars.
“I know what you’re up to Jason?”
“What do you mean? I’m not up to anything.” Replied Jason.
Alana continued, “I know your game, you’re attending funerals of people you don’t know. I know Jason because I do the same. Just tell me why?”
Jason turned white and felt embarrassed, this was the first time he had ever been confronted about this. He said,
“Okay, you’ve got me, I know it’s weird, but I just fell into it, I can’t stop. Can we go for a coffee to talk?”
Alana agreed, and they drove to the pub on Devils Dyke. Whilst cradling their drinks they both looked a little embarrassed and Alana insisted that Jason explained first. He told her that his wife had died six years ago in a car crash and afterwards he was so lonely. He kept thinking about his experience at the funeral and how nice and comforting people were to him. He explained that he hadn’t planned on this skullduggery, but he needed it and was searching for that feeling of compassion again. They spoke for hours and really had a lot in common. They swapped numbers and decided that together they could attend funerals as a couple, and they would only need one cover story between them.
Their odd relationship worked well for the next four funerals. After that they just stopped going.
They didn’t need to anymore, they had found each other, plus Alana was pregnant. Their loneliness was over, the emptiness was fulfilled, their craving for love and compassion was still as strong, but the search was over.
When people ask them how they met, they say they were two lost souls that had something secret in common, their clocks stopped.
The End
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