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by Sarah Wagner
Mainstream, 3 pages.
Originally Published in Whispering Spirits, 2005
1 comment [Rate or Comment on this Story]
It was hot, even for August. Heat rose up from the pavement in curls, wrapping around my small feet as I was pulled along with the crowd following the hearses. Sandwiched between my grandparents, we followed the matched silver cars with grotesque burgundy drapes hung with pride in the windows to frame the silver nameplates of Brigg’s Funeral Home. Orange flags with white crosses rippled on the hoods, calling attention to the procession determined to put my parents in the ground. My grandmother gripped me tight, afraid of losing me too. I was all she had left. At ten, it was too much for my shoulders to bear. I wriggled and squirmed until I finally broke free. I ran as fast as I could away from the procession of grieved faces.
I ran up a narrow, barely-kept path to the old part of the cemetery, to the rusted black gates that encircled the ancient dead. When I reached them, I pushed only to find them locked. My mother’s brother was gaining ground fast behind me. He called to me, demanding I go back with him. I could not do it. If I didn’t see it happen, then it didn’t happen. If I did not see them buried, my parents would come home to me. I took a deep breath and forced myself between the bars of the gate. My cheeks wet with tears, I shook my head as my uncle called to me. Knowing he wasn’t going to win, he gave up and went back to the funeral that could not be real.
Suddenly free, I turned to the depths of death I could handle— people I did not, would not know. Rising up from the neglected patch of sanctified earth, an abandoned chapel teetered on the edge of decay. Ivy vines and wisteria crawled up the rotting sideboards, pulling away at the plaster. Amazed that it was still standing, I put my hand on the wall, half expecting it to crumble beneath my touch. Daring the chapel to fall on me, I walked up the narrow steps to the door, took a deep breath and pushed my way inside.
The stone altar remained but, if there h -- [End of Preview.]