So here is a little something for you guys!
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I saw her again. It was at the Oakland Cemetery, as always. She was at the same grave (I assumed) as she always was. I swear, she's there everyday! What could she need to do that requires her to be there constantly?
I myself only visited my Mother's grave once a month, if that. I was always so busy working either at my Aunt's Bed & Breakfast or my friend's Diner that I was lucky to get 10 hours of sleep! Of course that would change once school was back in session. When I'm in school I only work at the Diner. By the end of the summer, the Bed & Breakfast has already had its busiest days, not including Christmas.
Slowing down on my bike, I dropped my foot from the pedal onto the cement. From where I was I couldn't really see what she was doing, but she was on her knees. Or maybe her butt. Like I said, not a good vantage spot. Kicking the kickstand down, I adjusted my messenger bag back on my hip and strode towards the cemetery gates.
As I got closer, I became more and more creeped out. God, I hated cemeteries. Just the thought of decomposing bodies beneath my feet was enough to get me running. Pet cemeteries were even worse. I couldn't even go near the one we have in our backyard.
Once I got to the wrought-iron gates, I gripped the cold metal. My earlier assumption was correct. She was kneeling on top of a grave. I couldn't see the name, but the headstone seemed nondescript. Normal. I knew the girl. Or, at least, knew her in the sense that I saw her every time I rode past the cemetery on my way home from the Diner.
She seemed my age, maybe a little younger. Her blonde hair was long and thin, a light dishwater-like color. She was pale, almost paler than I was, and the black she always wore accentuated it even more so. She had a red book with her today and white lilies in a basket next to it.
Realizing I was bordering on being a total creeper by watching her and not even saying anything, I turned away. I got halfway to my bike before I heard her call out to me.
"Leaving so soon?"
I turned and saw her getting up from the grave. She stayed standing at the base of the stone but angled her head ever so slightly as to let me know that, yes, it was I that she was speaking to.
"Are you talking to me?" I asked anyways. The street was deserted.
"Do you refuse to come past the gates?" She asked in a hollow-sounding voice.
Startled, I turned towards her fully and took a few steps forward. "Uhm, no?"
"No, you refuse to come? Or, no, you will come? Which is it?"
At the gates again, I stepped onto the reinforcement bar and hung my arms over the edge, in between the spikes. "No, I will come. I just choose not to."
She turned towards me more, her figure reminding me of a waif. Didn't she eat?
"You have no one to visit? There are so many people here... With no one to talk to. Won't you speak with them?"
Now I was defiantly creeped out. Raising my eyebrows, I asked, "Speak with who? Everyone here is dead."
"Exactly. They need someone to speak with. They're lonely."
Her words made gooseflesh appear on my arms and my stomach queasy. Without another word, I stepped off the gate and walked back to my bike, with all intents and purposes of going home. Or anywhere, so long as it was away from that cemetery and away from that girl.
I kicked the kickstand back in place and was about to push off when her words stopped me.
"Come back sometime. Everyone here is so lonely. You never know... it might do something for you." She was leaning against the gate, mimicking the pose I had used, an eerie smile on her lips. I could see her eyes were hazel, like the elms in the graveyard around her. Swallowing hard, I turned back to the road and ignored her, pedaling as quickly as I could.
When I was to the next block I was tempted to look back to see if she was still there, but fear that she was, kept me looking forward.
Never again. From now on, I am finding a different way home. I don't care if I have to bike another 3 miles. I'm not going near that cemetery again.
I myself only visited my Mother's grave once a month, if that. I was always so busy working either at my Aunt's Bed & Breakfast or my friend's Diner that I was lucky to get 10 hours of sleep! Of course that would change once school was back in session. When I'm in school I only work at the Diner. By the end of the summer, the Bed & Breakfast has already had its busiest days, not including Christmas.
Slowing down on my bike, I dropped my foot from the pedal onto the cement. From where I was I couldn't really see what she was doing, but she was on her knees. Or maybe her butt. Like I said, not a good vantage spot. Kicking the kickstand down, I adjusted my messenger bag back on my hip and strode towards the cemetery gates.
As I got closer, I became more and more creeped out. God, I hated cemeteries. Just the thought of decomposing bodies beneath my feet was enough to get me running. Pet cemeteries were even worse. I couldn't even go near the one we have in our backyard.
Once I got to the wrought-iron gates, I gripped the cold metal. My earlier assumption was correct. She was kneeling on top of a grave. I couldn't see the name, but the headstone seemed nondescript. Normal. I knew the girl. Or, at least, knew her in the sense that I saw her every time I rode past the cemetery on my way home from the Diner.
She seemed my age, maybe a little younger. Her blonde hair was long and thin, a light dishwater-like color. She was pale, almost paler than I was, and the black she always wore accentuated it even more so. She had a red book with her today and white lilies in a basket next to it.
Realizing I was bordering on being a total creeper by watching her and not even saying anything, I turned away. I got halfway to my bike before I heard her call out to me.
"Leaving so soon?"
I turned and saw her getting up from the grave. She stayed standing at the base of the stone but angled her head ever so slightly as to let me know that, yes, it was I that she was speaking to.
"Are you talking to me?" I asked anyways. The street was deserted.
"Do you refuse to come past the gates?" She asked in a hollow-sounding voice.
Startled, I turned towards her fully and took a few steps forward. "Uhm, no?"
"No, you refuse to come? Or, no, you will come? Which is it?"
At the gates again, I stepped onto the reinforcement bar and hung my arms over the edge, in between the spikes. "No, I will come. I just choose not to."
She turned towards me more, her figure reminding me of a waif. Didn't she eat?
"You have no one to visit? There are so many people here... With no one to talk to. Won't you speak with them?"
Now I was defiantly creeped out. Raising my eyebrows, I asked, "Speak with who? Everyone here is dead."
"Exactly. They need someone to speak with. They're lonely."
Her words made gooseflesh appear on my arms and my stomach queasy. Without another word, I stepped off the gate and walked back to my bike, with all intents and purposes of going home. Or anywhere, so long as it was away from that cemetery and away from that girl.
I kicked the kickstand back in place and was about to push off when her words stopped me.
"Come back sometime. Everyone here is so lonely. You never know... it might do something for you." She was leaning against the gate, mimicking the pose I had used, an eerie smile on her lips. I could see her eyes were hazel, like the elms in the graveyard around her. Swallowing hard, I turned back to the road and ignored her, pedaling as quickly as I could.
When I was to the next block I was tempted to look back to see if she was still there, but fear that she was, kept me looking forward.
Never again. From now on, I am finding a different way home. I don't care if I have to bike another 3 miles. I'm not going near that cemetery again.
~*~*~
