text: The rain fell softly from the grey English sky. The sun struggled to be seen through the dark clouds, only managing to shine enough light to cast a soft shadow on the cemetery grounds. Father McCreary stood in front of an open grave. Above the grave there was a wooden casket held aloft by a platform connected to a steel belt. The rain fell on her head, but, being an English woman, she found this to be just a mild inconvenience. Only one person had attended the service, an elderly gentleman who was the brother of the deceased. Father McCreary had had her share of lonely funerals, but this was by far the loneliest. Nevertheless, as parish priest, it was her duty to honour all who died amongst her flock. “Ben was a good man,” she began (a trite but effective introduction), “He has lived in this town his entire life, receiving his schooling in the local primary and high school, before briefly attending university in London. But of course, the pull of this town was great and he soon found his way back. “It was in this town that he worked as a mailman, eventually rising to the rank of post master. It was also here that he met his wife, Lynette, and although they did not have any children, theirs was a long and loving marriage, which ended upon Lynette’s death two years ago. “Ben lived a simple life and he was well loved in this town. Nothing made him happier than to attend the local horse races and to go to the pub on a quiet Sunday afternoon. He has lived a long life, a happy and fruitful life, and before he died he said that the only thing that made him sad was that he had outlived all of his friends. “He did not want for anything, but he did have one wish. He wished to be buried with a family heirloom, the Kohinoor diamond, which belonged to an ancestor from long ago.” Father McCreary hesitated for a moment. She looked up from her notes and looked at Ben’s brother. “There is no one here but you, me and God,” she said. Ben’s brother nodded solemnly. “Benjamin Harold Williams, was born Benjamin Windsor,” Father McCreary said, “Of course, as has been tradition for several generations, he took the name Williams, after the first Norman ruler of England. “The diamond belonged to Queen Victoria, but was in fact bought from the colonies. It has been passed down through the generations, its value immeasurable. “Benjamin was not a member of the Church of England. To him, religion was not of vital importance, but he chose to be baptised a Catholic and now he will be buried a Catholic. “The realm, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, no longer exists. Benjamin has died the last king of England.” Father McCreary walked over to a briefcase. She opened it and pulled out a flag. “In days long gone the coffin would have been draped in the Union Jack. But today it will be draped in the flag of England, St. George’s Cross.” She unfurled the flag and placed it across the top of the casket. She then pushed a button and the casket was slowly lowered into the ground. Father McCreary watched as the coffin slowly disappeared. Rain fell on top of the flag. She picked up some dirt and threw it on top of the casket. “Long live the King.” She then brushed the dirt off her hands, and walked away. &#x200B; Note - I wrote this for obvious reasons but it is just a story. No political motives. I'm sorry if I got any facts mixed up, I mean no offence. Also, should've called this speculative fiction.