Unearthing Hell: Book 2

PROLOGUE/FLASH FORWARD : Lacrimosa Memoriae

Lacrimosa Memoriae (Tearful Memories)

I stared at the headstone with an indescribable glare. The description of him on it was playing with my emotions immensely. It made me want to drop to the floor and cry, but, at the same time, it made me want to kick and scream in anger. His old flowers seemed dispirited as well with their petals drooping sadly as they wilted on the marble ground. The cloudless sky seemed to be trying to cheer me up by forcing the sun to shine a little bit of light my way; nevertheless, I was despondent. I could not look at the grave without a million memories of him eating me alive.

I looked down at the red and white roses I had bought him, the thorns digging into my skin from the tight grip I had on them. The aromatic smell of fresh roses and the earthy smell that drifted around the field calmed me down gradually as it coursed through my veins. But sadly, the tension that flowed through the air was still as evident and thick as the blood slowly seeping out of my hands from the cuts of the thorns.

As I looked at the engraving of his face in the stone, I remembered him standing by my side at school, getting on my nerves - in the most lovable way possible - , and scaring me half-to-death on a daily basis since I could remember. Everyday with him was now labeled the best in my life. He always brought out a side in me that no one could, and had an unimaginable energy that only few could unearth. So seeing him like this, his body underneath six feet of dirt, brought me migraines from how painfully ironic this situation was.

The longer I stared at the headstone, the harder my grip on the stems got and the weaker my body felt. Not even two minutes went by before my ability to focus left and my thoughts grew chaotic. Without thinking my knees buckled and I hit the scratchy floor, holding in a helpless scream as my knees dug into the sharp pebbles on the ground. Little cuts and dents formed on my knees as I knelt by his side, mourning for his death. I carefully, and rather weakly, laid the flowers down by the old ones before closing my eyes and letting out a small whimper. My eyes were practically screaming at me to be opened as I felt a burning sensation in my eyes. Not being able to hold in the pain anymore I opened my eyes. Just as I opened them my vision blurred and the taste of something salty slipped between my lips. Thinking it was rain, I looked up at the sky. When I realized that it was actually a tear I let out a humorless laugh and shook my head. I had promised him long ago that I would never cry for him.

Just as I remembered the promise, I broke down. My tears were never-ending, streaming out of my eyes as fast and as constant as the Niagara Falls. I heard the soft murmur of a family a couple rows back, talking amongst themselves calmly as they visited someone's grave. The wind moaned silently as it blew past me causing a chill to shoot down my spine as I wondered to myself how the family could be so calm in a place like this. Sure, the grass was cut evenly and every headstone looked polished and brand new, but the aura and set-up of the place was not one where you could set up a tea party. The field was up in the mountains, and the redolent smell of evergreen trees was everywhere. Nothing was near here. The closest thing to this area was another 50 miles east. The rows of headstones spanned the length of an airplane, and the width wasn't that short either. Anyone could easily get lost here.

I chuckled as I remembered the first time we were here, wiping the tears away from my face. We could not find our way out for a whole hour. The birds in the sky seemed to laugh with me, chirping so loud they could have easily raised the dead. The sky seemed to be getting brighter the longer I knelt by my his side, the top of my head feeling like it was slowly melting from the direct sunlight on it.

Knowing by the burning that it was time for me to leave I choked in a cough, wiped my bloody hands on my black jeans, and leaned forward to kiss his face on the headstone – my lips burnt to a crisp from the relentless heat concealed in the black and white rock. As I stood up I brushed off the pebbles attached to my jeans and murmured a quiet promise of return. The ground below me crackled loudly as I walked away, and my body fueling with rage faster than someone could blink.

If Satan wants to play this game, fine. 

Let's play.