Madeleine (English Verion)

Chapter 1

"Death is merely a passage into another form of existence. Life is a journey, and death is the gateway through which we must pass to begin a new voyage."

— Albert Einstein

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**Chapter 1**

The woman, bent beneath the weight of her memories, gripped her late husband's old, worn wooden cane. Her trembling hand slowly rose, her gaze fixed on the stone gravestone that bore the inscription: *Here lies Thomas TimGarder. Died November 27, 2010. * Despite the passing years, fresh, aching grief still smoldered in the old woman's eyes. She held tightly to the hand of ten-year-old Madelaine, who waved at every passerby with childlike curiosity. The girl watched them with awe, as if each person belonged to a different world, one entirely separates from the reality her grandmother inhabited.

"Madeleine, calm down!" her grandmother hissed, gripping her small hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "We are in a cemetery. You are ten years old now; behave yourself!" For the old woman, everything was a heavy, gray reality. Her world had collapsed the moment her husband left this one, taking with him their beloved daughter and son-in-law—Madelaine's parents.

Yet the girl seemed unaffected by her grandmother's harsh tone. She observed the mournful figures wandering the cemetery paths with fascination, their gazes vacant and cold, as though they had fallen into a bottomless sorrow they could not escape.

"Grandma, why can't these people see me?" Madelaine asked, once more attempting to catch the passersby's attention. "Hello!" she called louder, waving.

"Stop it; there is no one here. We are alone. Leave the dead in peace," her grandmother scolded, tugging her arm as if to shake off the foolish notions.

"No one believes me!" the girl protested. She pulled her hand free and ran between the gravestones, hiding behind one. She buried her face in her knees, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Why does no one believe me?" she whispered to herself, sobbing quietly.

"I believe you," a soft voice suddenly said. A young man, with glasses so thin they were nearly invisible, knelt beside her. In the autumn sunlight, his lenses shimmered with a golden glow. His faded jeans and green plaid shirt draped over an athletic frame. Madelaine lifted her head, surprised, and looked into his green eyes. She smiled faintly.

"I'm Madelaine," she said, gazing at him with a mix of admiration and wonder. "I come here with my grandma, but no one sees me."

"Nice to meet you, Madelaine," the man replied, pausing for a moment as if he had forgotten his own name. Then he smiled warmly. "People are so preoccupied; they never have time for anything." Maybe that's why they don't notice you," he explained.

"That's not true," the girl objected, shaking her head. "Their eyes wander, but I just wanted to say hello."

The man stood and gestured to the cemetery paths. "Come, I'll show you something." Madelaine followed him, curious about what he had to share. "See those neglected graves?" he asked. The girl nodded, observing the abandoned, forgotten headstones. "Imagine they are someone's home. No one remembers them, no one visits, no lights are ever lit. After years of solitude, they become sad, bitter, and eventually shut out the world completely. Many of these—people—have been forgotten, their hearts broken by the ones they loved most. It is best not to disturb their loneliness," he said with gentle concern, looking at her.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from around the corner: "Madelaine, where are you, you spoiled girl?" Her grandmother, fraught with irritation and fear, was combing through the cemetery paths. The girl turned her head, ready to respond, but when she looked back at the man, he was gone. A hollow feeling grew in her heart, as though a dear friend had left forever.