The Perfect Fit (A Flash Story)

The Perfect Fit

I drove by that cemetery almost every day, once in the morning, once at night. It was a place you noticed out of the corner of your eye with rows of neatly arranged gravestones and fresh-cut green grass. Then after passing by, you'd forget about it, without a second thought given.

Today was different.

I was driving my pickup truck down the quiet neighborhood street when the cemetery appeared. The black iron entrance gate was flanked by tall oak trees, and the gravestones beyond stretched backwards and out of sight.

A thought popped into my head, "You know, you've never ventured inside. All these times you've passed by, and never gone inside. Why not check it out today?"

It was a crazy idea. I should have kept on driving. But somehow, I felt myself turn the steering wheel and glance upward at the black iron gate as I passed underneath. I then looked at the digital clock on the front console. Okay, okay, you've got a bit of time before your appointment this morning. Why not?

I parked my truck near the entrance and got out.

Similar to the entrance gate, additional patches of oak trees were scattered throughout the grounds. This provided a canopy of shade over most of the cemetery which occupied about one square block front to back. It was the sort of place that was probably established outside of the original city limits but had come to be surrounded by a quiet neighborhood as development spread outwards.

I began to walk through the cemetery and couldn't help being impressed; the gravel pathways were spic-and-span white without any weeds, each gravesite was clean and tidy without an excess of remembrance trinkets from visitors, and the grass...oh yes, the grass...my fingers ran across the smooth, even blades that were cut to perfection. The cemetery was well-cared for, and it showed.

After a moment my feet came to rest, and I turned my head.

Wait a minute...wait a m...something wasn't...

A faint rumbling began off in the distance and quickly grew closer until a thunderclap exploded directly overhead. I must have jumped a foot off the ground in response and jerked my head upwards to the overcast sky as the rumbling faded away as quickly as it had come.

At the same time, an intense pain gripped my ankle and then shot upwards through my leg. I looked down and stared dumbfounded at a hand which had sprung forth from the ground and had its fingers wrapped tightly around my ankle. I screamed and yanked my entire leg backwards, tearing my ankle from its grip.

The appendage protruding from the ground was gray, with rotting flesh that exposed tissue beneath and fingers with black, overgrown nails. The hand remained in an open position for a moment before balling into a fist and pointing its index finger towards me.

I backed away...farther and farther... not wanting to...

I stumbled over something and looked down again to find another hand had sprung forth from the grass nearby. It too was balled into a fist with its index finger pointing towards me.

More and more hands; men, women, children; some fresh, some more bone than flesh, sprang forth from beneath the soil, all balling into fists, all with index fingers pointed towards me.

I whirled around to run back to my truck, but instead crashed into the chest of a tall, gaunt man wearing a light brown button-up shirt and dark blue jeans. As I backed away, I could see the name "Stanley" embroidered on the left breast of his shirt. The man was at least a head taller than I, thin as a fence post, and had a bald head that had ceased long ago to support hair. He carried a shovel that was pointed towards the ground and stared at me with a smile.

The groundskeeper, I thought. The groundskeeper, thank goodness!

"Be careful!" I exclaimed, "be careful, the hands, so many..."

I turned to point and...nothing...absolutely nothing. The onslaught of hands from beneath the ground had vanished and the cemetery was quiet and undisturbed.

"But where...where have they all gone?" I stammered.

"No one's gone anywhere," the groundskeeper answered with a chuckle. They're all still here and they're waiting for you."

"Excuse me?" I said, turning to face the groundskeeper.

"The dead need tending to, just like the living," the man replied. "I've cared for this cemetery for fifty-six years and now it is your turn, young man. The cemetery has chosen you as my replacement, as my successor."

"You...you must be joking," I said, taking several steps backward before turning and running away. "I'll never come back to this place again! Never!"

I ran back to my truck, hopped inside, started the engine, and sped out from beneath the cemetery gate.

After exiting the neighborhood and stopping for a few minutes to regain my composure, I saw the digital clock on the front console and swore. I would be late for my appointment.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my employment agency and took a seat in front of the agent responsible for my next contract job.

"I have some great news for you," my employment agent said as he took a seat in front of me and slid a manila folder across the table. "The groundskeeper at the local cemetery recently passed away after fifty-six years of service and the cemetery needs to fill his position. Given your breadth of experience in landscaping and yard maintenance, I think you would be a perfect fit, and I am sure they would agree."

THE END