The girl with a broken face

Graveyard

It was dark. Night had settled upon half of New York, leaving half of it amongst the sun escalating across the buildings. On Sundays. Most people would be having fun, enjoying their day or going out for dinner with their family,but I ,myself wasn't one of those people .

Saturday night for me was at the graveyard behind the rustling gates of this barren,cold and moist piece of land, surrounded by crosses and marble slabs with dead corpse buried underneath it . Black crows perched on the tombstones, as they let out a piercing screech of death. The decomposing leaves had fallen off it and landed on the ground softly. Sometimes you could hear people murmuring in sotto voice. The silence that watches over you and creeps behind everywhere you go. 

Everyday, a victim of tragedy comes in, being welcomed into the graveyard by a deserted path. Left all alone bearing that sorrow in their hearts. I watched people come and go and heard about the misfortunes that are being laid upon mankind. 

Today ,a teenage girl that was about 18 years old got ran over by a car. Her parents sobbed their eyes out, crying out ,"Why ?!? Why us ! Why this family?!". After hours of sobbing, the girl's dad tried to comfort his wife and told her that they should leave in order to calm down. His wife finally agreed and left the cemetery. As they left I went up to the girls' grave, kneel down and inspected the tombstone. Engraved on the tombstone was her name , date of death and her parents' last words, nothing special. I looked on the back of the tombstone. Unlike the other tombstones, there was something engraved on it in italic , it wrote resurrection . This made me curious. What does it mean? Why write resurrection instead of anything else you can write in the world ?  

The rest of the day was fine, until the clock struck twelve.