The Cemetary Gate

Crows called to each other, weaving invisible spiderwebs from the cemetary gate across tree branches and tombstones through the cold night. Anxious cries of excitement called the devil’s birds together in the dark, to watch the heroes latest offering to the earth. No other creatures dared make a sound during this ritual, lest they be heard by the crows or worse yet the one whom they gather to watch. Scott can hear nothing but silence as he baptizes himself in the dark muck and black slime of the earth, coating his naked body in the natural world. Most of the work was done for him, as it always is. The grave was six feet closer to the underworld, an extra two would not be difficult.

Sweat had made his hair drip, salt plopping down into the dirt tomb to further emphasize that this was a place where live dare not grow. The corpse was sprawled out under a tree, soaking up the shade created by the dead light of street lamps, cars, and homes. At a glance, he looked rested, like a Mark Twain character taking a break from painting. Scott positioned them all that way, lifelike to the uninterested passerby. Only once had his patrons been found by curious eyes. Months ago, on the weekend of some Godforsaken holiday, a group of people thought it would be

Only once had his patrons been found by curious eyes. Months ago, on the weekend of some Godforsaken holiday, a group of people thought it would be edgy and brave to travel through the cemetery with their brown bags and solo cups. They thought it would be funny to through one of those solo cups filled with poison at a dead man they thought was sleeping and then quickly scamper off before vengeance could be enacted. They were right, Scott did think it was funny. He also found the irony gut-bustlingly hilarious when he found the man who threw the cup and lay him down under the same tree.

The earth had been dug as close to hell as was necessary, and so it was time to lay his patron’s soul to everlasting rest. Scott climbed out of the ground, like a soul who has not yet fulfilled its purpose, covered in the wonderful grime of nature. He made his way over to the body arms straight ahead, without bending his knees, moaning like the undead until he skipped and began to laugh to himself. Morgan’s

Morgan’s corpse found a permanent residence and was quickly made one with the earth. Scott stood over Morgan’s grave, marked by a different name, with his skin still soaked through with mud but also adorned in his new classic Hollywood star suit. The young man looked down into the ground and whispered a few words that only he and his Lord will ever know, the crows cawed in their pews, unanimously approving of the new addition to his ritual.

The birds had all flown away and Scott strolled through the cemetery’s paths until he came to an ancient oak tree. Several feet above his head was a hole which contained his car keys, wallet, phone, and casual clothes. He rolled a stump over to use as a step-stool, grabbed his belongings and then pushed the stump away again with his heel. While walking through the cemetery gateway back to his car, Scott noticed that he had several missed calls from his girlfriend, Mary, as well as a sole text that read: “I know what you did”.

via Daily Prompt: Gate

This is Part 2 of an ongoing series created using the Daily Prompt every Friday.


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