I Belong in the Graveyard

Chapter 1

The Girl
I've been watching him come to the graveyard for the past year and a half almost two years now. Ever since that small grave on the isolated hill was placed he came here almost daily, it lessened after a while but he kept coming.

I didn't have a good view of the grave but I could tell he had a ritual in his mind that he did every time he was here - he would light candles, take out some kind of picture from his brown bag then he would say a few words to the grave, something along the lines of, I'm sorry or something that was like he should have been better to her, sometimes he made well thought out speeches off the top of his head. He would then begin to cry...every single time he would cry, only once after this ritual did I see him not cry and that was when the grave was planted and the memorial was, he didn't cry but he was in shock from his dead sister, so much that he didn't exactly realise what he was feeling for her except surprised fear. After his sobs he would then clap his hands together and pray for her soul. He would stay for another hour or so and just stare at the grave or think to himself, sometimes if it was a sunny day he would watch the clouds and he would write in a notebook from his satchel. I could tell it was poetry because once he finished he would read it aloud and it didn't rhyme but he would pause and put an extra beat in every other word.

Even though I could only watch him from farther away I could tell that he came in to the graveyard sad and overly stressed, but after a while I knew he felt at peace, he would walk around and begin to smile at the graves instead of feeling sorry, all his regrets ended after he was in the graveyard. He would find some fun activities to do.

Once he brought a drawing book and I watched him make intricate designs that were made of only shapes and lines. It was amazing and different. Usually you hear of people drawing things or scenery or something but he drew so many shapes and random lines everywhere and it was so strange.

Just recently he began to wear darker clothes. He began to have a face that was slumping with sadness, but when he came to the graveyard his smile would reappear so that he had a bitter sweet smile. It could make anyone smile back to see a sad boy smile so hard when he was in a place he liked. He began coming to the graveyard with a hoodie pulled over his head and dark sunglasses on like he was trying to hide his face. He would remove the sunglasses and hoodie and smile up at the sky. He wasn't happy hiding himself, and was afraid of what people would do if they saw him. He wore darker clothes, began to try to hide himself more and he would try to stay at the graveyard as long as he could.

It wasn't easy to tell that he was becoming more broken each day, but it was there. He wouldn't cry anymore, but he became more irritable. I wanted to step off here and go help him, tell him to hang in there, tell him that I would be his friend, but I could never do that, I was bound to this stone. Forever.

In the past week he has been bringing his phone and his old ear plugs to listen to music. I could hear the music from where I watched him. It was very loud and started out quiet then got louder then quieter again.

Then...he began singing along with the singer. Dark twisted words of killing metaphors and death came from his mouth. He sang some of the lyrics quieter and some louder, sometimes he hummed the guitar parts. But the words...these words truly filled me with despair, he sang them happily but I knew that these lyrics had some sort of meaning to him. They had a nice beat and I didn't mind the rock guitar and light drums, but I will never get over the first time he sang the words of how all people are due one day and most people don't go to a nice place.

I could tell from how he sang every word without tripping up meant he listened to this music a lot. The music was okay but hearing this boy who was so broken listen and sing these lyrics with such emotion that it meant something to him when he sang about how he thinks once he dies he will never be going to a nice place...that was when I saw how broken he truly was.

He still stared at clouds and was happy in the graveyard but recently his attitude has been getting worse and worse. He was slowly fading from the conscious world of keeping your head and going to the dark world for the forgotten and the ones that are too lost for hope.

And he was too amazing for me to let him slip away. He was so unique, which was probably why he came to the graveyard with black eyes sometimes, but it was so amazingly different that I don't see how anyone could ever do that and drive him to hiding himself. I resolve tonight that I can't let him get hurt anymore and I will reveal my soul to him the next time he comes to the graveyard.

I know the truth. He doesn't belong in the graveyard, he shouldn't belong in the graveyard. The graveyard is not where anyone belongs except the dead and the tombstones.

I sit on my tomb and sit in stone. I am quiet. I do not bother anyone. I do not care if my tomb is crumbling under me. I must sit in silence. As my soul is in this staute, I watch through my statue and I look below from my tall tomb stone. I may be stone covering up my real self, but I know the truth. I belong in the graveyard. The graveyard is my home. It is not where I "Rest In Peace" but it is where I belong.