By Stephanie O’Hanlon (Free Rein)
The cemetery was quiet that night, just as all cemeteries. The leaves from the autumn day were scattered about as the wind blew through the half barren trees, picking them up and twisting them around in little vortices with dirt. The gravestones were half shrouded in darkness, the light from the waning crescent moon casting a blue glow on the fresh cut grass through the dry branches.
The wind was slightly cool, since it was nearing the end of October. There was a flutter of wings, a few ravens sitting on the branches of one of the trees, squawking loudly. One of them hopped on the branch several times, snapping its beak before it squawked.
The entire cemetery was disturbed as a hand burst through the fresh earth, stretching up into the cool air, grasping for life. The earth was pulled apart as another hand pushed through. The dirt was moved around until a head of a young woman poked through, gasping for air.
She whimpered, her blonde hair covered in dirt as well as her face, her blue eyes filled with tears as she tried to pull herself out of the dirt, painfully slowly. She raked her fingers through the grass, pulling her body out of the little pit she had created. Her stomach was flat on the ground as she kicked her feet frantically, trying to get them free.
She continued to gasp for air as she lay on the ground, her face resting on the cool grass. She looked up,
weeping, confused, disoriented as she tried to push herself up, her hands clawing into the ground.
She looked up, her torn, dirty long curls falling on either side of her face, her eyes looking to the graves around her. She looked down to her hands, which were bloody, then to her white dress, the silk underneath an airy tulle, the lace neckline plunging down with a drawstring under the bust. Her arms were bare until her shoulders, small straps keeping the dress in place.
She licked her lips, her sobs quieting, sitting back on her legs. She then looked to her left, seeing the gravestone, turning to it and reading the name on it.
Emily Elizabeth Winters. May 30th 1989-September 28th 2012
Her eyes widened at her name, her hand reaching out to the stone tablet, her fingers gently running over the letters. She didn’t know why her name was on the gravestone. She tried to remember that day, September 28th. She couldn’t remember. In truth, she didn’t really remember anything…all she knew was her name. She wasn’t even sure if that was really her birthdate, but it had to be.
She slowly and shakily got to her feet, looking around, confused. She saw a little bench across the way, under a tree half barren of leaves, the ravens above fluttering and squawking loudly, almost excitedly. She staggered over to it, her bare feet crunching on the cool grass. She sat down, finally looking around, seeing the entire cemetery. It finally dawned on her where she was! But why? She threw her face into her hands and began to weep once again.
She looked up, voices coming from somewhere, not far off.
“Ugh, pain in the ass,” one man’s voice said.
“Tell me about it,” another answered.
Emily sat for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her. She followed the voices.
“If it wasn’t for my wife nagging me, I would quit this God damned job,” the first man’s voice said.
“Humph, I hear ya,” the other voice replied. “At least we have benefits.”
“Yeah,” the first voice said again.
Emily carefully walked behind a tree, watching as two men filling in a grave.
“If I ever find the little punks that did this, I’ll wring their necks!”
“Not until I beat the crap out of them first.”
She continued to watch as the first man, who was short and fat with a baseball cap on his head took his shovel and patted the fresh earth with it.
“Good enough,” the second said, a tall man who also wore the same baseball cap, as he leaned on his shovel.
“I say this calls for a beer. I’ve got some in my cooler,” the first said, wiping his forehead and face with a rag.
“I second that,” the other said, grabbing his shovel and following the first man through the cemetery.
Emily waited until they were gone before she walked slowly over to the grave, her bare feet brushing against the grass as she stopped where the earth had been disturbed. She knelt down, looking over the gravestone.
Edgar John Adair. November 20th 1988-October 10th 2012.
“Edgar,” Emily said to herself. She reached forward and ran her fingers over the letters, the image of her lover before her, making her smile for a moment before she realized that she was in a cemetery. She was surrounded by the dead.
What were gravestones for? For marking the graves of the dead. If Edgar had one that would mean that he was dead. Tears built in her eyes as she shook, realizing that her love was dead. But, wait—Emily also had a gravestone. That would mean Emily was also dead.
“Emily?” a voice called from behind her.
She quickly looked up, smiling. “Edgar!”
He was covered in dirt just the same as her, a white dress shirt on his thin, pale frame, his black slacks seeming to blend into the darkness, his feet bare. His black hair was torn curls that framed his face, his green eyes surprisingly bright in the darkness.
Emily almost couldn’t contain herself, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. He held her
tightly, burying his face into her torn blonde curls.
Emily began to cry. “Why are we here? What’s going on?”
He shook his head, pulling away from her. “I don’t know.”
He looked into her eyes for a moment before he leaned in and kissed her. Emily always loved Edgar’s kisses, giving into him, no matter that they were standing by his grave in the middle of the cemetery.
Suddenly, a flashlight shined on them, catching their attention.
“Hey! What are you two doing?” It was the fat groundskeeper that was just moments before covering up Edgar’s disturbed grave.
Edgar pulled Emily into him, as she held onto him tightly.
“I said what are you two doing?” he repeated, even angrier.
They both stayed silent, even as he approached them. He looked them over, stopping.
“Jesus,” he said. “Are you two all right?”
Again, they stayed silent.
“Look, you two can’t be here, this is not Lovers Lane,” he said. “You two need to go on now. Go on!”
They still stayed silent, Emily holding onto Edgar tightly, her head resting against his chest. This angered the groundskeeper further, stepping forward and grabbing at Emily’s arm. Edgar reacted quickly, grabbing his arm and breaking it.
The groundskeeper started to yell out in pain, screaming. Edgar quickly grabbed hold of him, putting his hand over his mouth to silence him. He continued to struggle in his arms, though Edgar seemed to not really notice.
The other groundskeeper came running through the cemetery, yelling out for the other. He ran up to them, yelling, “Hey! Let go of him!”
He stopped, Emily not even hesitating as she lunged forward, biting his neck. He continued to scream as she ripped off a piece of his flesh, devouring it. Blood began spurting everywhere, the man slowly dying off as his body slumped to the ground.
The other groundskeeper had watched in horror, kicking up a bigger fuss in Edgar’s arms as Emily turned to them, blood running down her chin to her chest and the front of her dress.
Edgar smiled to her lightly before he realized that the man was still in his arms. He quickly snapped his neck, letting the body fall to the ground. He then took her hand as they walked through the gravestones, both of them silent.
They found a patch of grass, both of them lying down on it on their backs, looking up at the stars. They still had their hands entwined together.
“So, now what do we do?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But, as long as we’re together, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
The cemetery was quiet that night, just as all cemeteries. The leaves from the autumn day were scattered about as the wind blew through the half barren trees, picking them up and twisting them around in little vortices with dirt. The gravestones were half shrouded in darkness, the light from the waning crescent moon casting a blue glow on the fresh cut grass through the dry branches.
The wind was slightly cool, since it was nearing the end of October. There was a flutter of wings, a few ravens sitting on the branches of one of the trees, squawking loudly. One of them hopped on the branch several times, snapping its beak before it squawked.
The entire cemetery was disturbed as a hand burst through the fresh earth, stretching up into the cool air, grasping for life. The earth was pulled apart as another hand pushed through. The dirt was moved around until a head of a young woman poked through, gasping for air.
She whimpered, her blonde hair covered in dirt as well as her face, her blue eyes filled with tears as she tried to pull herself out of the dirt, painfully slowly. She raked her fingers through the grass, pulling her body out of the little pit she had created. Her stomach was flat on the ground as she kicked her feet frantically, trying to get them free.
She continued to gasp for air as she lay on the ground, her face resting on the cool grass. She looked up,
weeping, confused, disoriented as she tried to push herself up, her hands clawing into the ground.
She looked up, her torn, dirty long curls falling on either side of her face, her eyes looking to the graves around her. She looked down to her hands, which were bloody, then to her white dress, the silk underneath an airy tulle, the lace neckline plunging down with a drawstring under the bust. Her arms were bare until her shoulders, small straps keeping the dress in place.
She licked her lips, her sobs quieting, sitting back on her legs. She then looked to her left, seeing the gravestone, turning to it and reading the name on it.
Emily Elizabeth Winters. May 30th 1989-September 28th 2012
Her eyes widened at her name, her hand reaching out to the stone tablet, her fingers gently running over the letters. She didn’t know why her name was on the gravestone. She tried to remember that day, September 28th. She couldn’t remember. In truth, she didn’t really remember anything…all she knew was her name. She wasn’t even sure if that was really her birthdate, but it had to be.
She slowly and shakily got to her feet, looking around, confused. She saw a little bench across the way, under a tree half barren of leaves, the ravens above fluttering and squawking loudly, almost excitedly. She staggered over to it, her bare feet crunching on the cool grass. She sat down, finally looking around, seeing the entire cemetery. It finally dawned on her where she was! But why? She threw her face into her hands and began to weep once again.
She looked up, voices coming from somewhere, not far off.
“Ugh, pain in the ass,” one man’s voice said.
“Tell me about it,” another answered.
Emily sat for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her. She followed the voices.
“If it wasn’t for my wife nagging me, I would quit this God damned job,” the first man’s voice said.
“Humph, I hear ya,” the other voice replied. “At least we have benefits.”
“Yeah,” the first voice said again.
Emily carefully walked behind a tree, watching as two men filling in a grave.
“If I ever find the little punks that did this, I’ll wring their necks!”
“Not until I beat the crap out of them first.”
She continued to watch as the first man, who was short and fat with a baseball cap on his head took his shovel and patted the fresh earth with it.
“Good enough,” the second said, a tall man who also wore the same baseball cap, as he leaned on his shovel.
“I say this calls for a beer. I’ve got some in my cooler,” the first said, wiping his forehead and face with a rag.
“I second that,” the other said, grabbing his shovel and following the first man through the cemetery.
Emily waited until they were gone before she walked slowly over to the grave, her bare feet brushing against the grass as she stopped where the earth had been disturbed. She knelt down, looking over the gravestone.
Edgar John Adair. November 20th 1988-October 10th 2012.
“Edgar,” Emily said to herself. She reached forward and ran her fingers over the letters, the image of her lover before her, making her smile for a moment before she realized that she was in a cemetery. She was surrounded by the dead.
What were gravestones for? For marking the graves of the dead. If Edgar had one that would mean that he was dead. Tears built in her eyes as she shook, realizing that her love was dead. But, wait—Emily also had a gravestone. That would mean Emily was also dead.
“Emily?” a voice called from behind her.
She quickly looked up, smiling. “Edgar!”
He was covered in dirt just the same as her, a white dress shirt on his thin, pale frame, his black slacks seeming to blend into the darkness, his feet bare. His black hair was torn curls that framed his face, his green eyes surprisingly bright in the darkness.
Emily almost couldn’t contain herself, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. He held her
tightly, burying his face into her torn blonde curls.
Emily began to cry. “Why are we here? What’s going on?”
He shook his head, pulling away from her. “I don’t know.”
He looked into her eyes for a moment before he leaned in and kissed her. Emily always loved Edgar’s kisses, giving into him, no matter that they were standing by his grave in the middle of the cemetery.
Suddenly, a flashlight shined on them, catching their attention.
“Hey! What are you two doing?” It was the fat groundskeeper that was just moments before covering up Edgar’s disturbed grave.
Edgar pulled Emily into him, as she held onto him tightly.
“I said what are you two doing?” he repeated, even angrier.
They both stayed silent, even as he approached them. He looked them over, stopping.
“Jesus,” he said. “Are you two all right?”
Again, they stayed silent.
“Look, you two can’t be here, this is not Lovers Lane,” he said. “You two need to go on now. Go on!”
They still stayed silent, Emily holding onto Edgar tightly, her head resting against his chest. This angered the groundskeeper further, stepping forward and grabbing at Emily’s arm. Edgar reacted quickly, grabbing his arm and breaking it.
The groundskeeper started to yell out in pain, screaming. Edgar quickly grabbed hold of him, putting his hand over his mouth to silence him. He continued to struggle in his arms, though Edgar seemed to not really notice.
The other groundskeeper came running through the cemetery, yelling out for the other. He ran up to them, yelling, “Hey! Let go of him!”
He stopped, Emily not even hesitating as she lunged forward, biting his neck. He continued to scream as she ripped off a piece of his flesh, devouring it. Blood began spurting everywhere, the man slowly dying off as his body slumped to the ground.
The other groundskeeper had watched in horror, kicking up a bigger fuss in Edgar’s arms as Emily turned to them, blood running down her chin to her chest and the front of her dress.
Edgar smiled to her lightly before he realized that the man was still in his arms. He quickly snapped his neck, letting the body fall to the ground. He then took her hand as they walked through the gravestones, both of them silent.
They found a patch of grass, both of them lying down on it on their backs, looking up at the stars. They still had their hands entwined together.
“So, now what do we do?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But, as long as we’re together, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”