THE CEMETERY
The earth smelled of freshly churned earth: damp and musky. The was no shade to offer reprieve from the heat of the summer. The sun shone down on the parched grass, it offered no mercy to the living. The soil was slowly baking, the water evaporating into the air would soon leave the new mound into nothing more than a pile of ashen dirt.
Bobby glared at the sky. There was nothing romantic about that day - nature did not grieve for people any more than people grieved for strangers. There was no rain or fog to match the sorrow in her heart. The sky was open and blue, lacy cloud listlessly flitting past as the minutes ticked by.
Turning away from the grave Bobby walked down the gravel path. The heat was irrepressible, it clung to the skin while the humidity choked the lungs. An arbor of trees offered a moment of relief. The shade felt like a soothing balm to her heated skin, regardless she stilled poured sweat. The flower beds under the trees were the only ones still living in the cemetery, they provided stark contrast to the brittle brown grass. It smelled like life under the trees.
The city, though relatively shut out from the enclosure of graves, could still be heard. The din of voices mixed with the rumbling of cars produced a faint buzzing that carried on the air. A loud squealing erupted, rising above all other noises, and for a moment Bobby couldn't tell if it the noise came from worn out break pads or a person.
The roar of the city was annoying to Bobby, it was a hubbub of life with joys and sorrows bleeding into the streets. It was continuous, it never slept and never ceased: the city thrived with the living while she walked with the dead. Passing in and out of shade she walked along broken paths. The sun leached into her skin. She wondered if she'd soon look like the grass - vibrancy gone, parched and hungry for mercy and attention.
The cemetery was annoying to Bobby, it was silent for the dead could not talk, the only life within the rusted iron walls thrived by clinging to scarce shade. And she walked among it all: past the dirtied and forgotten headstones, past the weeds that fed on the decaying bodies beneath the soil, past the headless angels reaching out to some invisible absolution.
Scant breaths of wind blew heat at Bobby. The atmosphere was lethargic, energy seeped out and wrested away. She felt at odds with herself. Her limbs were heavy as steel, numb and clumsy, like a marionette pulled on twisted strings. Her mouth lacked moisture and her head lacked weight, thoughts blank and fuzzy. She stumbled on with her drunken gait.
So fragile the world seemed through the eyes of one so near to death. Lives flicker by like flames, so easy to extinguish. When the flames are put out how many people can say they were a bonfire? How many lived as mere flames, lit for a fancy then blown out well before their time?
Bobby circled back the the freshly dug mound, eyes senseless. She felt haggard, it couldn't be the end, not yet. It was too soon. She wept over the grave, wept tears of the damned and the forgotten, wept as one exalted looked upon his fallen pedestal. Fingers digging into dirt, she begged for mercy. She begged for peace of mind, for understanding, for clarity of life and death, and for rest.
A cloud flit overhead, thick and strong yet the rays of the sun still pierced through in an arching array. A strand of sunlight alighted upon a freshly dug grave. The engraving read thus:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BOBBY LYONE
MAY 21st 1989 - SEPTEMBER 2nd 2015
A DEARLY MISSED DAUGHTER
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE
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A/N: Hopefully everyone enjoyed this update! I apologize if this is a bit rough, please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes. Other than that please comment and vote if you enjoyed!
