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can we get to 3k comments and 500 votes?
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6503 words
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It's raining a little today.
It's cold and wet, and as I trudge through the grass, I can practically feel the mud caking to the soles of my shoes. Little drops fell against my shoulders every now and then, few and far between, and the sky is a dead, dismal light grey. It had rained and thundered all through the night, and now the sky is draining of its last bits of water.
When Mother came to my doorway this morning, I thought she would scold me for being late to breakfast, maybe remind me of the dinner party tonight.
She asked if I would like to visit him with her.
She walks a few paces in front of me, as, after all, I've never visited him before. She's the only one out of the two of us that knows where to find him.
The grass is immaculately groomed, as if the best way the groundskeeper could think of respecting those buried underneath it was to keep the land prim. It doesn't make much sense, though, does it? They're dead. How many damns could they or would they give whether their grass is short or not?
And as we walk, I see the occasional dandelions sprouted from the ground. They're so yellow, embracing the light rain with open arms. Far too bright for the wet grass and sludgy mud and grey clouds. They remind me of the corsage still on my nightstand, as the flowers are long lasting, and I wonder what my father would have thought of me attending the hall. Would he have been proud to see me grown up just a bit more? Or adamant that I skip the way my mother did?
I would have liked to have him present me.
As we round up a hill, I see a black marble mausoleum beginning to make itself clear through the slight fog that hangs in the air. Mother slows and glances over her shoulder as if to check to see I'm still with her, and when we lock eyes, I drop mine to another dandelion on the ground.
We both stop at the top of the hill, the mausoleum standing tall and silent. In gold lettering spells out "ZABINI" across the front, surrounded by two columns with serpents wrapped around them. The door looks heavy, like it might take an entire army to push it open, but as Mother starts up the steps, it swings open silently.
I watch hesitantly first a few moments as she disappears into the mausoleum, sucked into the dark. My fingertips tremble slightly at my sides as I glance it over, taking in the black marble with its white veins running like spiderwebs.
