The trees softly shhhed in the light spring wind, air damp from a recent mist, which spoke to the heavier rains to come. Clean stripes of grass stood untouched for a day or so, flattened only slightly by the sky's quiet crying, mud and leaves dotting only the bases of mostly pristine grey and white and black stones, wet to the color of dry concrete, of slightly dulled dark granite.
Names proclaimed clear even with water upon them.
Only a single human presence had existed in the place for days. The only one to take through the wrought iron gates with its elaborate script declaring the entrance's purpose. One would possibly deem it fortunately that only a single individual had visited the cemetery for an extended period of time. That no more than one had reason to visit, reason to openly show his or her grief. Although one individual could not maintain the entire location on their own.
No matter. This single figure, always dressed as though another had passed since he or she since last visited, which was usually every couple of days, held enough as the sole individual who had visited in the days there were no burials.
He, or she, never seemed to arrive when any other was present. Stopping at each place which held someone else's grave.
Inside the mind of the figure, were unforgettable images.
A beautiful teenage girl filled with all her dreams and desires and hopes, her wishes and regrets, and her slender hands on the wheel, and the slip from her control, the tires of her vehicle squealing and the car spinning then twisting...
The figure saw the family at the church, the grave to the ground. Her brother questioning God, her parents overwhelmed with grief, all extended members asking why.
A couple of 85 and 90 dying in a nursing home, having had only one another for years as they struggled, but not unhappy in their last days. Their children and grandchildren and even the younger, visiting them that last time, in the cemetery, considering all the time they didn't spend with their parents, descendants wondering the same.
By the stone that read of a single day of life, brought the scenes of blurred vision and never understood anguished sounds, then an entrance into his parents' forlorn minds, both losing more than they could have ever predicted in this infant's death.
An eternal twelve year old's resting place brought scenes of never-known violence at the hands of his peers, older and younger, male and female, his last breath in the shed behind his family's home, and all the thoughts of him after.
A man of 45, otherwise healthy, whose heart suddenly gave out as he began his morning jog, his wife left in shock, whose life began to consist of only solving the mystery in trying to forget her grief.
Every gravestone gave a new story. Every name, every family. The figure stopped at every one, although there were hundreds in place. Soldiers and children, men and women; selfish, selfeless; human, each had been. At the end of the trek, the figure placed their palm on the ground of the entrance, and the cemetery seemed to glow from each individual place.
The black cloak of the figure fell, revealing the faces of every person whom had entered, living or dead, each image revealing an expression of both grief and joy, of horror, shock, numbness, anger, while showing wonder, contentment, bitterness, resentment, forgiveness, kindness, cruelty, on the many faces in one.
Each felt his or her fog rise from the ground and find its sky, where rain began to pour. And the figure disappeared.
Names proclaimed clear even with water upon them.
Only a single human presence had existed in the place for days. The only one to take through the wrought iron gates with its elaborate script declaring the entrance's purpose. One would possibly deem it fortunately that only a single individual had visited the cemetery for an extended period of time. That no more than one had reason to visit, reason to openly show his or her grief. Although one individual could not maintain the entire location on their own.
No matter. This single figure, always dressed as though another had passed since he or she since last visited, which was usually every couple of days, held enough as the sole individual who had visited in the days there were no burials.
He, or she, never seemed to arrive when any other was present. Stopping at each place which held someone else's grave.
Inside the mind of the figure, were unforgettable images.
A beautiful teenage girl filled with all her dreams and desires and hopes, her wishes and regrets, and her slender hands on the wheel, and the slip from her control, the tires of her vehicle squealing and the car spinning then twisting...
The figure saw the family at the church, the grave to the ground. Her brother questioning God, her parents overwhelmed with grief, all extended members asking why.
A couple of 85 and 90 dying in a nursing home, having had only one another for years as they struggled, but not unhappy in their last days. Their children and grandchildren and even the younger, visiting them that last time, in the cemetery, considering all the time they didn't spend with their parents, descendants wondering the same.
By the stone that read of a single day of life, brought the scenes of blurred vision and never understood anguished sounds, then an entrance into his parents' forlorn minds, both losing more than they could have ever predicted in this infant's death.
An eternal twelve year old's resting place brought scenes of never-known violence at the hands of his peers, older and younger, male and female, his last breath in the shed behind his family's home, and all the thoughts of him after.
A man of 45, otherwise healthy, whose heart suddenly gave out as he began his morning jog, his wife left in shock, whose life began to consist of only solving the mystery in trying to forget her grief.
Every gravestone gave a new story. Every name, every family. The figure stopped at every one, although there were hundreds in place. Soldiers and children, men and women; selfish, selfeless; human, each had been. At the end of the trek, the figure placed their palm on the ground of the entrance, and the cemetery seemed to glow from each individual place.
The black cloak of the figure fell, revealing the faces of every person whom had entered, living or dead, each image revealing an expression of both grief and joy, of horror, shock, numbness, anger, while showing wonder, contentment, bitterness, resentment, forgiveness, kindness, cruelty, on the many faces in one.
Each felt his or her fog rise from the ground and find its sky, where rain began to pour. And the figure disappeared.
