She was very strange from an early age. She collected books and loved to organize and count them. Even when she was little the books she read were morbid. She used to ride her bike down the hills of the cemetery near her best friend’s house. They used to steal discarded flower arrangements from the waste cans and put them on old baby graves. Most of the graves were nameless but the ones that were marked carried dates from long before she was born. They scattered the salvaged flowers around the graves and said prayers for the souls of the babies. They learned not to walk directly over where the bodies laid. The cemetery was peaceful and full of ghosts to imagine. Mandy was always afraid of dying and being forgotten, faraway from her family and friends buried underneath a polished marble monument among others bearing strangely familiar surnames. She could tell you a million stories like this and that is what she wanted to do with her life. Be a writer. She was always odd, maybe it was her way of assuring that she would be remembered. Her only regrets now are all things she left unfinished… but she loved her life, and viewed it as her compelling movie. She offered her work to the world, and hoped to someday author children’s books. This was something she wanted to accomplish in life but now she has placed her words in the hands of others. She was never a recognized film-maker but would want people remember it as one of her passions. She left a few videos on the internet in hope that they might comfort those who long to see her and hear her voice again:

Tall tale / violent keys:
Scarlette & the Green Ribbon:
Ode to Nature:

One thought on “Eulogy


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