( changing up the prompt )

“ Happy Birthday . . . To me.

Happy.. birthday..”

Nathaniel said in a hushed voice.

He had turned thirty.

“ Oh, hey pops!”

He turned to his fathers urn, waving.

“ Ma! Grandma! You said you’d stop smoking!”

He turned his head to stare angrily at the urns.

“ And there’s my girl, Lucy!”

He pet the urn, his dog beside him tilted her head questioningly.

“ Nathaniel, did you take your medicine?

We are going to the palace today.”

His sister called to him.

“ Palace?”

He called back, with surprise.

They had finally areived at long, massive golden gates.

It was dappled with rust, but even the rust glimmered in the sun.

“ We are here. You’ll finally meet Lucy, Grandma, Pa, and Ma again.”

Nathaniel excitedly jumped up and down, and ran beyond the gates.

That night, Nathaniel died in his room.

He had taken far too many pills for years straight, which led to this miserable end.

He had down syndrome, and was in a deep state of depression.

Oh, and for the record, he never met his family again.