Symphony of Lilacs

37. Hallow of Nightmares

A few shrubs grow on the sides, weaving their way of stranded moss and fall petals through the stone.
My thumb brushes against the stone, though more on the name engraved into it.

William Elijah Hopkins
(1846-1879)

The muted breeze of this cemetery pulled me here, even though William's... anniversary is a week from now. Even though I tried to stay away this time. Even though I wanted to meet someone else tomorrow.

Someone crunches the fallen leaves under his feet, making me turn around. My eyes widen and Doctor Hopkins stops.
He is alone, just like me.

I nod at the doctor, as he makes his way to the grave. His shadow grows with each step, longer and longer. Doctor Hopkins grips the stone, settling himself on the side opposite to me.

I don't know what to say.

The doctor looks in between the stone and me, shoulders dropping with a sigh.
"You still miss him."

My fingers brush against the small petals aligned against the stone. I put my elbow on my knee when it reminds me of someone.
"I always do."

A glaze coats the doctor's eyes, making him take another breath. However, when he speaks, there's only a slight tremor in his voice. He tells me stories of William, of his childhood, his adolescence, his youth.
I bite my lips, pain growing more and more in my throat despite sharing memories of him, of William.
We stay like that for the rest of the noon— him being the father I never had, I being the son he lost.

The lilacs wave about in their positions, while I keep looking at them with a tilted head. The sodden, abandoned chapel bears witness to this, despite being engrossed in its own decay.

"I know he was your friend, lad," Uncle Arnold says. "But he was also my constable. Do you think I'd let my own men's murderers parade about?"

Sighing, Uncle Arnold pushes the station's gates.
"It's raining, lad. Come inside to dry yourself."

Rain keeps striking down on the forsaken soil, water dripping down to the bone.
I don't need to go inside; I don't need to dry myself; I don't need to calm down right now.

"You know I can help! Just let me..." Thunder drums in the skies.
"Please..."

Throughout the funeral and this conversation, Jasper Harvey remains silent. He only observes.
Later he was the one to convince Uncle to let me help.

My head shakes, bringing me back to the lilacs.
The contradicting weather of the past and present intermingle to make me take a step back, blinking.

And then almost collide into someone behind me. I straighten and then freeze when her fingers clasp around my arm.
"Mathilda..."
Hastening, I turn around. All the while I lose the lingering touch.