Stranger in the Graveyard
By: Elen Galad
Cristy hugged her self as the cold of the night washed over her. She could feel her tears begin to freeze on her skin, another wave of sobs shook her body. The wind pushed at her, her dress flowed and pressed against her, making her shiver. She stumbled as tears filed her eyes again, and her vision blurred. She let them come, she didn't care. The pain burned in her chest. She stumbled down the middle of the street, the cold light from the street-lamps cast dancing shadows upon the road. The water from her eyes sparkled in the dying coronas as she left the main street and made her way through the park. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, spilled the cold night air around her. She didn't know were she was going, but she had to get away.
One of her stiletto heel's broke and sent her crashing to the ground. She completely lost it. She burst into a fit of shrieking sobs and tears poured from her broken heart. She ripped the shoes from her feet and threw them away. Frantically, she got up and started sprinting, weaving through the park. She couldn't tell her way. She didn't know what turns and twists she was taking. She just ran. She had to. She ran for what seemed like hours. She ran till her feet throbbed, and her legs couldn't carry her anymore. Her sobbing shook her in spasms. Tears rained onto the ground. She looked to her right and yelped. She could swear she had seen a human shape leaning against a near-by tree.
The figure was blurred from her crying, but she knew she saw it. A long, lean frame with a spiky mop. She desperately rubbed her eyes clear and looked again. Nothing. She walked in the direction she had seen it, still crying. She made her way through the line of dark trees. Leaves brushed her face, branches scratched her arms and pulled at her dress. The brush grew thicker as she pulled a path through. Roots tangled around her ankles. Her feet were blackened with dirt. Her tears cut tracks through her makeup, and her eyeliner turned them black as well. After what seemed like an eternity, she broke through the line of growth and stumbled out into a huge, open expanse. The stars where countless and blinding, with a huge full moon. A thin, cobbled brick path wound it's way from the woods where she had emerged. The stones felt cold under her feet. She could clearly see under the pale light from the cloudless night sky.
The path lead to a big iron gate supported by two large brick pillars. A pair of Gothic stone gargoyles flanked the gate on ether side, and a tall stone wall, with rustic iron-work on top, stretched off on both directions to disappear into the dark woods. Beyond the gate, she could make out odd shapes in the moonlight, some almost chest high. She walked up to the gate and placed her hand on the handle. The iron chilled her skin and gave her goosebumps. She peered through the bars. A heavy mist covered the ground, spiraling in and out of the odd shapes. Suddenly, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. The shape again. It flashed between two trees just beyond her line of sight. She grasped the handle of the gate and pushed. It swung open with the shrieking groan of metal rubbing metal. She passed through the rusting portal and stood in amazement. Before her stretched a seemingly endless graveyard!
Large, ornate tombstones stretched of as far as she could see. The mist lay heavy and cold, making dew where it fell. Statues of angels, tall monoliths, and above ground mausoleums cast eerie shadows across the yard. There were stone huts that lead to underground crypts, and concrete gazebos dotted the landscape. It was a picture strait out of an old ghost story. But, Cristy was more marveled by it than afraid. She walked slowly through the tombstones, holding herself. As she walked, she began to forget what she had come to this place for. Her thoughts kept fading back to that awful moment. Walking into the gym. The lights. The music. Her satin violet dress that her mother had made for her. She had dyed it to match Cristy's purple and red streaks she had put in her dark hair. Her mother had never complained about her being a goth and her father loved her just as she was. It was society she rebelled against. Her parents were musicians and artists; just as much outcasts as she was. But the kids in school, other parents, and adults. They shunned her, criticized her for being different. For having parents who where different.
The girls in her school made fun of her pale skin, her multi-colored hair, and her taste in clothing; mostly black, leather and plaid skirts and tanks with long stockings and high boots. Her friends where all punks and goths like her, but even with them she felt alone. She had moved to this present neighborhood not long ago when her parents had received a huge commission to supervise the renovation of the town's historic districts, so she didn't know anyone very well. Then the school she attended announced the Fall Formal Dance only a few weeks after she arrived. She had started hanging with the local goth scene, and as the dance drew nearer, she abandoned hope of ever getting asked. The girls and boys in her group where all already together, and she had no one. So one could imagine her surprise when a very cute, very popular boy approached her in the hall at school one day and asked if she would be his date for the dance. She was so surprised she almost didn't answer. But, she finally agreed, and went home to tell her parents. They hugged her. Her dad spent a week measuring her and sketching designs for her mother to loom, dye and stitch together by hand. Meanwhile, her grandmother gave her a pair of her old diamond earrings to wear.
"These will suite you better than all that other bangely nonsense you have in your face all the time," she had said. This made Cristy laugh. Her grandmother always prodded her about her multiple piercings. She made a joke about having others she couldn't even see. Her mother and grandmother spent hours fitting her dress, fixing her hair, putting on her makeup and nail polish. She looked beautiful. Her gray eyes shined, her hair was tied and pinned oriental style, and her dress accentuated her lovely figure. Her father dropped her off at the school, kissed her on her forehead. She made her way to the gym, entered the front door, and saw her date chatting with a group of other popular kids. He had his arms around two girls she had seen in the cheer leading squad. She stood confused until he spotted her. Other eyes joined his on her. He gave a small chuckle and walked over to her.
"Well, I half expected you not to show. And, I gotta say, you freaks clean up pretty well," he said, bemusedly. He stood in front of her now.
"But, I gotta be strait with you. I asked you to this to prove a point," he motioned to his circle of friends, " See them? I bet them that I could charm even a freak like you into doing what I wanted, and you didn't disappoint."
Her face held a look of pure loss and confusion.
"Wha... what?" she gasped.
"Oh come on. you didn't think I would seriously waste my time on you with all this much hotter snatch runnin around, did you?" he motioned one of the girls over.
"Hey, don't get me wrong. You dress up well. But I got other ones who look better than you 24/7! However, you did make me 200 bucks richer. So consider this a thank you."
He pulled out a twenty and stuffed it into her cleavage. She looked back at him, horrified. The other kids began to snicker behind him.
"Don't spend it all at Hot Topic," he gave her a wink, and the whole room erupted into laughter.
"Go back to the food court, mall rat!" someone shouted.
"Yea! Did your mom make that dress?!"
"No, she stole it off a JC Penny rack!" Everyone roared with laughter. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. She looked at her supposed friends. They simply turned away as if they didn't know her. That was when she had turned and fled, tearing through the night to wind up here, in a graveyard chasing shadows.
She sank to the ground and leaned back against a headstone. She broke down again into a fit of uncontrolled sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her knees and put her head down. The tears fell freely. Eventually they were completely spent, and she gave way to dry heaving.
Suddenly, she heard a sound. She looked up and around. The fog swirled thick and heavy on the ground. She got up to her knees and looked over the head-stone. She gasped when she saw what could only be a light, flickering and moving in the distance. It barely cut through the mist as it bounced and winked between the graves. Suddenly it disappeared entirely. She sat back down shivering. Her eyes stayed on her feet until she heard a voice.
"You don't belong here." it said. Christy had no idea how to react. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once and it bounced around in her head.
"That's what everyone has been telling me.." she couldn't believe she was talking to herself.
"No. I mean you don't belong here, in this place." it came again. She looked up and would have screamed if her throat wasn't so ravaged from crying. In front of her a tall boy leaned against a statue. He had a long shovel on his shoulder and was wearing a white button-up work shirt an a pair of dark slacks. A red tie hung from his neck and his hair was deep blackish blue. It fell unkempt from his head and his bangs drifted in front of his eyes. Her eyes froze on his. His bronze skin made them stand out and they shimmered; black orbs glimmering with endless starlight.
"This is a graveyard. It's for dead people. You don't belong here....not yet at least." his voice was deep, dark and smooth. It filled her and warmed her, but had a silver edge to it that cut her to the bone.
"I'm sorry...I just wandered in here. I've had a rough night. You see, I was at the dance whe-"His outstretched hand cut her off.
"Save it. I don't need your life-story. Tell your problems to someone who cares. Just get off that grave and leave."
Cristy began to get to her feet. Suddenly the moon drifted behind a heavy cloud and water began to patter down from the sky. It smeared what was left of her makeup and soaked through her dress. It drenched her hair and chilled her as it poured down.
"Crap," said the boy, "Well, I can't send you off in this. You'll never make it out of the woods and I would just have to drag your sorry skin back after you froze to death. Come on, follow me."
He started to walk off but stopped and turned when she didn't follow. She stood drenched and shivering.
"S-s-s-so n-n-ow y-you c-c-c-care? Y-you d-d-idn't s-seem t-to w-w-w-orried a s-second a g-g-go. N-n-ow y-you want m-m-e t-to follow-w-w y-you t-trough this c-creepy g-graveyard?" She planted her feet and hugged herself as the rain drenched her. He looked at her with those shimmering black eyes. He started walking away again.
"Fine. Stay here, you're so eager to join them,"he motioned to the graves surrounding them, "Saves me from having to go hunting you in the woods."
She watched him with disbelief. He picked up a bright Colman lantern and walked off. She stood until all she could see was the light through the down-pour. Finally she gave in and fallowed the bouncing light as it snaked through the rain. She wound her way through the endless expanse of graves until finally she saw a brighter light in the distance. Her mouth opened silently as the silhouette of a massive mansion rose like a haunted monolith from the hill in the center of the grave yard. She stepped through it's ornate iron gate and crossed the clean yard to where she could see the lights from it's bottom floor windows. She stood taking in the sight of the giant house when she saw him standing in front of the open door.
"You coming in?" he asked. She tried to nod and walked up the steps to the porch. Only when she saw the huge fire blazing in the hearth did she realize how wet and cold she was. She broke into shivers as he lead her inside and stood her in front of the fire. He disappeared down the hall, and she looked around. The foyer was a large open space with the big fire place and large, plush chairs set around old fashioned tables. The furniture was antique but in impeccable condition. Lush wood paneling lined the walls and the floor was hand crafted hard wood. The biggest grandfather clock she had ever seen stood against the wall where the twin staircases met and split again off to the second floor on ether side. The clock was crafted from dark iron-wood and it's face was solid brass with white gold inlay for the markings and it's hands where sterling silver. A huge copper pendulum swung back and forth in the clock's body. The boy came out from one of the side halls and handed her a shirt and pair of pants. He also handed her a pair of silk underwear and a bra. Her face reddened but he acted as if it was nothing.
"Um....how do you know these will even fit me?" she asked, annoyed.
"They will. If you want, wear them, if you don't, stand there and freeze till your clothes dry out. But you should know, that dress will shrink if you don't change and let me dry it properly."
She huffed and followed him down the hall to a small bed room. He closed the door behind her and she set the clothes on the bed. She pealed her soaked clothes off and slipped on the underwear. It fit her almost perfectly and the silk was softer and more comfortable than she ever imagined. She slipped into the jeans and tossed the shirt on. The shirt hung loose but the pants fit snugly and she washed her dirt covered feet. She looked down as the soaked twenty she had forgotten about fell to the floor. She contemplated for a second, then picked it up and stuffed it in the shirt pocket.
She padded barefoot back down the hall to the foyer. He was nowhere around so she went up the first flight of stairs. the stairs went off to the second floor, spiraled to the third floor past that, and rounded to a high balcony that looked out onto the foyer and out the massive window that fronted the house. An open door-way lead to a large dining hall behind the main foyer on the second landing. She went to one of the doors and entered the second floor. A long hallway meandered through the house and she found an open door. She pushed it slowly open. The boy was standing by the bed in a large, well appointed bedroom. Large red drapes adorned the window and matched the curtains around the bed and it's blankets. A vanity with a large mirror and a beautiful wardrobe were the only other furniture in the room.
He had changed pants and was pulling off his shirt when she entered. She watched, enraptured as his muscular torso was revealed. His back was broad and rippled with muscle. His heavy shoulders flexed as his well toned arms moved with the effort of putting on another shirt. His body tapered to a narrow waist and long, strong legs. His black hair glistened with rain and his hands were large and powerful, yet they tied his tie with a gentle delicacy; they were a musician's hands. She had seen many, but none so callused and worn from harsh toil. She looked and noticed he was casting her an irritated stare. She turned beat red.
"I-I'm sorry." she stammered. He said nothing and pushed past her. She followed him back downstairs and into a large kitchen. Modern appliances complemented the antique cabinetry and counter tops well. A large iron pot hung suspended over an open fire pit, and a flat range grill sat nestled in a large island in the middle of the kitchen. Cristy looked around with wonder.
"My parent's would love this place!" she said. He looked back at her as he pulled some bottles from a cabinet.
"Oh, my folks are architectural designers. That's why we moved here. They got hired to restore a bunch of old buildings in town. I'm not much for rich neighborhoods though.."
"Obviously" he said. The insensitivity in his voice slapped her across the face. She tried to ignore it.
"So, where are your parent's?" she asked. He stuck his thumb out towards the graveyard. She began to say something but the gravity of what he was indicating hit her.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't kn-"
"Shut up," he said flatly, "They are better off than I am right now. All I can do is wait for the day I see them again. So no tears, for them or me.......ever." He took some meat and vegetables out of the fridge and turned on the big flat range. He took a large knife from a drawer and began dicing the vegetables.
"So, do you have any other family? Siblings, grandparents, and uncle maybe?" she asked. He poured some oil on the grill and tossed the veggies on. They barked and sizzled as he worked them around in the oil.
"I had a sister. Those are her pants and underwear your wearing. She was about your age when she died so I knew they would fit you." He cut up the meat and mixed it in with the veggies on the grill. He added some more oils and spices as he mixed them.
"I see, and I guess the shirt is yours.." She felt a bit more uncomfortable knowing she was wearing a dead girl's clothes. The aroma of the food he was cooking tickled her nose and she went over to the island. She sat in one of the high swivel chairs and watched him cook. He worked his knife and spatula much like the chefs she had seen on TV.
"You're really good at this huh?" she said. He ignored her and scooped the food onto a couple of plates. He passed the steaming food to her and gave her a fork. He folded his hands and blessed his food quietly, then dug into his own plate. Cristy fiddled with the food a bit, then speared some and blew on it. She put it in her mouth and chewed hesitantly. Her mouth was bombarded by a cascade of unbelievable flavor. She dug into her food with relish.
"My god! This is amazing! I've only ever had food like this in high dollar restaurants!" she exclaimed. He just looked at her.
"It's just dinner to me." he said. He kept eating.
"You know....I don't even know your name. I guess we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Christina." she said. She extended her hand toward him. He cast her a sideways glance and ignored her hand.
" Ramon De Sylvia. Gravedigger." he said. She withdrew her hand and went back to her food. She finished every last bite and he took their plates to the big sink and began washing them. She noted the fact that he ignored the modern dish washing machine, instead choosing to wash them by hand in warm soapy water. She went over and picked up a towel. He looked at her for a second, then simply handed her the dishes one by one. She gently dried each and set them aside. He gathered them up and put them away. She looked out the window. The graveyard stretched out into the woods all around. The rain had let up, but still fell steadily. It pattered a hypnotic rhythm against the window.
"So, what happened?" he asked. She turned to see him pouring a glass of wine. He sat and sipped it, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, well, as I tried to say before..I got asked to a dance by a popular boy at school and when I got there, he told me it was part of a very cruel prank and he embarrassed me in front of the whole school. I was confused and heart-broken, so I ran and ended up here. I'm sorry for trespassing. I didn't even know there was a grave yard back here. So you live here all by yourself? Why would anyone live in a graveyard?"
He took another sip of wine before answering.
"This grave yard is centuries old. It dates back to colonial times. My family owns it and has owned it for as long as it's been here. When my parents died, the responsibility of it's up-keep fell to my sister and I. Then she took ill, and I was left to bury her beside mother and father, and care for the grave yard alone. The woods around the yard were purposely left to grow unchecked, so that it would hide it from the world."
Cristy opened the fridge and found a soda. She popped the tab on it and sat across from him.
"Why?" she asked.
"Same reason you had the worst date of your life tonight. This town is full of pompous air heads who don't respect anything but money and image. The town let it be hidden because they believe that such a large, old grave yard would damage property values. So the people here have small, private funerals. The coasts are paid in full, and the bodies are turned over to the coroner and never spoken of again."
"Who's the coroner?" Ramon pointed to himself as he finished his wine. "Your kidding!"
"No. I'm not. The living are selfish, uncaring, and do not respect each other or the world around them. And before you try to accuse me of generalizing, you may not be like everyone else but you are. More than you think or know. You may not be as corrupt, but your just as naive. You're all dead already. You just don't know it yet. I prefer the dead over the living."
Cristy watched him go to the sink and wash his glass. She sipped her soda.
"That's just dark." she said. "Are you always this cynical, or do you just act like a butt when you have company?"
He came back and looked at her. His eyes burned and dug deep into hers. She felt as if he was staring into her soul. Finally he looked away.
"Hmph. Well, I take it back. You might be a bit more enlightened than some. But still, not enough to make me change my opinion." He looked out the window. "It's late. You need to leave. You'll never find your way through the woods so I will give you a lift. This way."
Cristy followed him out of the house. He held a small umbrella for her and they walked to a large garage like building set apart from the house. Ramon pressed a button and one of the large shutters slid up. Inside the building was full of various digging and gardening tools. Lawn mowers and small tractors sat on one side and a couple of old beat up pick up trucks sat on the other. Ramon looked at Cristy and pushed the button again. The door slid closed.
"I guess I can't make you ride in one of those old beaters." He opened another shutter and turned on the lights. They were bright florescent and this part of the garage was cleaner and more organized. Large red tool boxes sat in a neat line along side a work table. Various machine parts were laid out on it and a vice held what must have been a transmission upside down over a pan full of fluid. Two beautiful, almost new hearses sat side by side, one white, and one silver. Several old muscle cars sat gleaming off to the side next to a group of old fashioned hot rod coups and t-buckets. Some gleamed, some were shabby and primered, but all had big, modified engines in them. Ramon walked past all of them to the back where a large car sat covered by a huge blanket.
"So we will take this one." He pulled the cover of to reveal another hearse. This one was old. Cristy could tell because of the patches of rust, the large chrome bumpers and grill and the large tail fins on the back. A big Cadillac hood ornament sat on the hood, where the biggest engine she had ever seen sat beneath. A large, polished air catcher with red butterfly valves sat on top of two throttle bodies, connected to a massive super-charger. A wide, black belt rounded the chrome pulley and snaked off down through the hole in the hood. She stood there looking at it before finally going to the passenger side where Ramon stood holding the door open. She climbed in and buckled up. The leather bench seat creaked and rubbed as she moved.
Ramon got in the driver's side and buckled in. He flipped a few switches on the dash. Cristy heard a whirring sound and after a few seconds he pushed a red button, and the big engine spun to life. It rumbled and barked like a drag racer. Ramon put the floor shifter in first and they taxied out of the garage. The lights turned off as the shutter closed behind them. He pointed the nose of the massive car down a narrow paved road that led off into the woods. He hit the gas and the car jumped off in a squall of shrieking tires and smoke. The engine howled a primal roar as the hearse wound it's way along the road, it's headlights casting frantic shadows into the night. Cristy held on for dear life as they barreled through the dense forest. Eventually they skidded to a halt as the driveway met the main road. Cristy looked around and recognized the intersection just down the road.
"I know where we are!" she exclaimed. "The mall is just down this road. I always wondered where this path lead to. Now I know I guess."
Ramon turned down the street and drove in the direction of her house. He didn't drive as wild, but still faster than she knew was legal.
"Hey, I never told you where I live" she said.
"5468 Willowwood Way. In the old Stevenson place." he replied.
"How did you know that?"
"I make it a point to find out everything I can about people that move to this neighborhood. I know a lot about everyone that lives here."
"Wow," said Cristy, "That's actually kinda creepy."
Ramon just shifted and kept driving. "Whatever." he said.
Cristy looked around the car. "I have a question. Why is this car so loud?"
Ramon slowed for a red light. The engine shook the whole car as it loped. "Because I like irony. A hearse that's so loud it can wake the dead. I love cars. My family always has. And I get a large salary as the county coroner, a big budget for the grave yard's up-keep, and you wouldn't believe how much these snobs pay to keep me and the dead out of sight and out of mind. So I have a lot left over for my hobbies."
They arrived at Cristy's house just before midnight. Ramon shut off the loud engine and held in the clutch. The car rolled silently to the curb and stopped. Cristy got out and took her dress and purse with her.
"Thank you. I guess I will see you around?" she asked
"Maybe. Keep the clothes." He got out and she marveled as he effortlessly pushed the car to the hill and jumped in as it started to roll down. When it reached the bottom, he dropped the clutch and the engine banged as it caught and the car took off down the road. She watched until it faded from view and listened to the sound of it long after she couldn't see it. She hugged herself and smelled the shirt she was wearing. It smelled of musk and a sweet but sharp after-shave. She smiled as she turned towards the house and crept inside to bed.
