Infested

Infested: Part 3

8:30 A.M. Sunday

Arriving at Ward Memorial Park; Henry walked towards the hill and up to the grave, apprehensive to see the stone engraving.

It had been just a few days since he; Andrew; Cat and Connell had been here. He wasn't even sure of what brought him to come back – at least so soon.

As he stared blankly at the sight, he couldn't help but keep thinking about that night; so, drawn of details of Connell flaring in the water; but waking in hurried fashion just moments after the thing had pulled him under, Henry wasn't convinced that it was 'just a dream' as Andrew had promised it to be.

Connell had been fine as he had fell asleep with his head propped against Henry's thigh on the same fake leathery couch. But the boy's behavior couldn't be justified from earlier that afternoon – playing with the bugs and chanting such odd 'lyrics' was hard to let go of.

The bugs!

He suddenly remembered why he wanted to venture back to this place, alone.

He placed his index and middle finger to his lips; kissing them and pressing those limbs onto the gravestone as he pushed up off his knees. With a sigh, he meandered over towards the area that he thought was where he had found the little boy playing at. He was off by one headstone to the right.

He bent down to the area of dirt still slightly disturbed. The sprinkling rain from earlier had not reached this higher point of the yard. Dusting a bit of earth aside, it looked as though he had polished a bit of stone or a metal material. Muddled as to why this would even be here, he continued to push away more and more soil, until the dirt gave way to the entirety of the object – which wasn't a rock or stone at all.

Henry picked up the item to inspect it. It was metal, not entirely assured to what kind though – a thin piece of tin maybe. Blowing off as much grime that would fall off, he noticed that there were symbols; markings; something written onto the piece. With all the encryption's etched, it was a name that stuck out in the most horrible fashion – his last name.

With seeing the name, his focus swiftly peered at the gravestone – exceptionally disturbed with its own name plastered upon it.

Henry's same last name – Talmadge.

Voices could be heard scrimmaging throughout the yard, peering behind him to see the roots of the noises, another ceremony was taking place just on the other side of the row of squared off fall rendered box woods.

He swooped the object into his inner jacket pocket and made his way away from the area. Absolutely confounded as to what his name had in common with that of the erected stone; or as to why Connell had been playing there at all?

10:30 A.M.

Looking at the time on his phone, with several phone calls being missed, realizing he had been searching files; newspapers; anything really that had whatsoever to do with that yard; his name; or metals with inscriptions bred into them, for a solid two hours.

With only one particular response repeating itself with every outcome: the item condensed itself as being only something called a or in modern times referred to as a cursed tablet, usually depicted on thin sheets of lead.
Lead that can not be destroyed but only contorted towards other forms and kept within a stronger protective object.

Henry had no idea what object could be up to the task of keeping this at bay.

Baffled as to what can caused by such creations, Henry took the item within his hands to examine a bit more in depth without the speculation of prying eyes.