Haunted (Alastor X Reader)

Chapter 33

"Alastor T. Ambrose
~~~
1902-1933"

Alastor looked upon the stone, picking and wiping the moss off of the overgrown grave so he may have a proper look. It weathered and stained various shades of gray, his name, and years of his birth and death. The shape of the stone had rounded out at the top, the carvings made to replicate that of an old radio. One quite reminiscent to his old one that was currently in your house, in fact. He felt a chill run up his spine, how uncanny it felt to be standing above his century old body in it's final resting place. A mere few feet of earth separating the pile of bones from himself up above.

It was early in the morning, a dim blueish gray hue painted the world around him as the city had barely woken up yet. Day had just begun to break through, the world around him becoming brighter but ever so slowly in doing so as the sun continued to rise somewhere behind the thick clouds. You were back at the hotel, presumably asleep if Alastor had to guess. This time he was sure to leave a note for you explaining his whereabouts so you wouldn't wake up in alarm at his absence.

Rain hit the top of his umbrella as he stood motionlessly at the grave. The gentle pattering of water hitting the grass was soothing, calming the thin veil of eeriness that loomed over his shoulder. His lips forming a tight smile, taking one last look at his body's final resting place before walking only a couple paces off to the left to another marked stone.

This one older than his, barely able to make out the name as time had eroded so much of the detail away. But it was there.

"Viola P. Ambrose
Wife and Mother
?? - 1924"

"I'm sorry it's been so long since my last visit, Momma..." he spoke quietly. He took a deep inhale, shakey as air seemed to rattle in his chest, and he knelt down in front of the headstone. "I haven't been around these parts, lately. It's good to be home."

Alastor used to visit his mothers burial site at least once every couple of weeks or so when he was alive. Even in death, she was his closest friend. He would go there to tell her good news, to vent to her about how challenging life was, to tell her he missed her and wish she could be there to offer him guidance. One might say he was merely talking to the air, but he knew better. With every blow of the southern breeze he felt his Mother's spirit weaved within the air, bringing him a sense of comfort. A comfort he hadn't felt in decades, now; but felt just as warm and familiar as a hug from her personally.

"A lot has happened since I last came here." He admitted. "A lot of things you probably wouldn't be very proud of, and I'm sorry about that. But I did a lot of things that I hope would make you smile too, so, I'll start with that."

He looked up at the sky for a moment, taking in the peaceful scenery. The rainy gray skies made the greenery of the trees and plant-life seem to pop in color by comparison. Moss, vines and other botanicals seemed to decorate a lot of the graves. Shrouding the stones in a evergreen veil, like a blanket for the dead. Mesmerized by the droplets of rain that continued to fall from the heavens above, adding moisture to the earth below and giving the air that sweet aroma he knew too well. A gentle smile crept along his face as he looked back down at his mothers headstone.

"I fell in love." He sighed, his warm smile reaching his eyes as he recalled your smile and the sound of your laughter. "You would adore her, Mother. She's such a wonderful soul, she makes my heart flutter in a way I've become so addicted to. She's an absolute angel, as sweet as a Georgia peach. Loving her is like basking in the warmest of sunrises. It's like hearing a timeless song, one that I can't stop singing to. I wish you could meet her, she's actually the reason why I'm here right now... I owe her a debt of gratitude, but nothing I could offer would measure to my happiness. I'd spend the rest of my eternity trying to repay the favor. She doesn't know how much I missed it here, how much I miss you..."