Wrestling the Kraken

A Cemetery Somewhere

A Cemetery Somewhere

March 23, 1971

A recent rain caused the leaves below her feet to absorb the sound of her boots. The air, still chilled, carried echoes of tears and hymns. To her left, where the hill sloped, at the bottom, a group was gathered all in black. A thick, rich voice sang Amazing Grace. Every note weaved a silent realm for the living, where time bowed its head in respect and the tombstones listened with reverence. Even she paused for a moment, her heart reaching out for the family huddled together, but it was only for one moment caught within the silent realm. She pulled her coat tight, and her heart even tighter, and continued walking.

The sky was heavy and gray, making the early afternoon feel more like evening. She read the names on the stones as she passed by them, wondering what fate did those souls meet, which of them would be waiting on heaven and which were waiting for hell. Did they know while they were living, or would it come as a surprise?

It was strange. For someone who didn't give much thought on what they believed, this place drew on something deep within that didn't question heaven or hell as a reality, but regarded it as a fact. The reflection of life and its value was a magnetic field here, but outside these gates- the race, the time, the world and its needs- were its own force, leaving places like these to be wiped off like the rain drops on her coat.

She felt herself an intruder- one drop from the black stain in her heart would stick out among this silent realm layered in white. As if to protect the integrity of lives at rest, she tightened her grip on her coat, careful not to leak any black.

At the top of a hill, near the back gate, she stopped and stared at one stone. The black in her heart stormed with fierce defiance. It wasn't fair, it said. None of this is fair. The surge wanting to release, she looked up over the tombstone and at the city in the distance. Its indifference to this place, quelled the wave, gave it comfort in the remembrance of the long game. Patience. It will all be justified.

She pulled out a thick file and sat down, her back resting on the edge of the stone. On the cover in black faded marker was written: "1963."

"Time for a story." She said to the soul at rest beside her. "Some of this was easy enough to gather, but others..." her eyes stared off for a brief moment. "Well, I won't get into all that. Let's dig into the past. Once upon a time, eight years ago..."