Afterthen

Chapter 2

- C H A P T E R  2 -

Maybe it's the way of living in a graveyard for the whole 17 years of my life, I think to myself. It seems as though its stench has been transferred onto my being, and now I just subconciously attract death. Well, isn't that angelic?

My family has been guarding this place for generations, if there would be that one who wanted to stray away from the traditions, there'd still be a lone wolf left to guard the stones. I'm the last one left of my line, I wonder who's that lone wolf who'll inherit the whole graveyard then.

Along with the remains of my ancestors, most of the dead buried beneath the brown are commoners or "no-bodies" who haven't had the luxury of affording those gallant mausoleums. They're still being taken care of, though, my family set on a strict rule that everybody deserves to be treated kindly as they were when they were alive and breathing.

It doesn't change anything, my father said. He's now tombed several feet below in a intrically-designed casket by yours truly. Having settled in a quaint, arcadian cemetary town located somewhere that probably isn't even mapped, there have definetly been various discussions on how one should proceed with one family member's death. There were much specific requests.

Father desired a coffin pressed with wildflowers, for when he passes onto the space between death and the unknown, he shall meet both foreign and familiar souls to which he will gift the flowers to. A reminder that life is amazing to live amidst the chaos and wildness. Worth living for.

My mother, now peacefully basked on a contraption of woven fabric specifically tailored for her, wished not for that.

"Never put me in a coffin, you hear me, honey?" she said, as we indulged ourselves on packs of flavored juices under a hot, summer sun. "If you do, I will rise back up and snatch you to replace me instead."

Wagging a finger at me, I diligently nodded, 8-year old eyes staring back and having believed the warning. She wanted to be one with the Earth again. From the soil we were made, and to the soil will we go back at last, my mother stated.

Growing up, sometimes I think I see wisps of spectral aura hovering behind a tree or waving to me, but then I shake my head, and it's like I just imagined it. I don't know if I believe in ghosts, or demons, or any of those creepy stuff you hear in bedtime stories, but it is hard not to get spooked.

Especially right now, a heap of ground is nestled beside the progressing hole currently being shovelled.

I wipe the back of my hand on my forehead, lightly sweating with exursion. 3 AM, I couldn't have waited longer to bury my mother in the morning, no ? Other workers won't arrive to tend to the tombs until 5 AM, and most likely, Wylan, a boy adopted and raised by my parents would be sleeping like a sane human.

Ask Wylan, he'll know..

What would he know ?

Rustles of fallen leaves are picked up by my ear, and I make an effort not to chew over horror stories and movies I've laughed at the time I was watching them. I pause, and the grip on my shovel tightens. It hits different when your mother just died and you're burying her in the middle of the night under barely sufficient moonlight. Relatable stuff, right ?

"Sorry to have startled you, ma'am."

A shadow from behind me emerges and out comes a young man wearing a bright red scarf that contrasted with the dull scenery. I look up from the shallow dent I have created, "Oh, it's just you, Wylan."

He has a man-size shovel in his cinnamon-colored hands. "Why are you awake?" I ask him and resume my slow work. This isn't creepy at all.

"I double that back at you, ma'am," Wylan walks towards me, his scarf dramatically flowing in the chilly night wind, and begins to help me with scooping.

"Amara, remember?" I correct him. "I-I suppose you know..." I gesture to the direction of my mother.

He nods solemnly, "My deepest condolences, Amara." The hole is starting to show some advancement in terms of depth. "I've already fixed the certificates and will handle them in the morning."

"Thank you, Wylan. Ma didn't have much friends, but the neighbor near the cemetary knew her. I should let her know, too." He nods in answer. Wind breezing by and the sounds of leaves travelling fill the place.

Wylan, the boy my parents found downtown, homeless and scared, carrying the corpse of his dead brother on his back when he was a child. My parents took pity and laid his brother to rest. Ever since then, my parents took him in and gave him care his biological parents never would've.

How could he know and their own daughter left clueless ? I glance at him, quiet as always, I used to try to play with him back when we were younger, but he wouldn't budge and stayed reserved as we aged, so I ceded. "Wylan, before..before Ma passed, she told me about father's spirit being on the loose, and told me to ask you."

He ceases shovelling and gazes at me knowingly, "It's time you understand the truth about your family."