Lonliness of A Silent Grave
By Leno
- 698 reads
"A million words won't bring you back, I know because I tried. A millon tears won't bring you back, I know because I cried," his voice echoes through the lonely graveyard as he repeats something his girlfriend had said to him once, his eyes gazing at the gray tomnstone painfully, his eyes soft. He hears the wind howl, and it is his only response. Wrapping his arms around himself, he feels dreadfully cold in the silent graveyard, gray clouds blocking the light of the moon, making the place seem all the more ominous and uncaring.
Written on the tombstone is a name he wishes he had never heard. In his youth, he had never known this person, not until the day he turned fifteen, a teenager and on the way to be a man. The person buried beneath the dirt, beneath his feet, is someone he looked up to, someone he admired in a time when his life had been hectic, in a time when he had been in a car wreck with his family. He was the only surviver, and his dreams taunted him many nights after the terribly, fatal accident.
The person buried beneath the tomb, buried deep down in a coffin with a brass lid, is someone he had loved. His girlfriend, Tanya, said that he should come here tonight, even though he never wished to see the grave again. It just makes the whole in his chest hurt all the worse. The gravestone and the name and the date of death just makes it all seem far too real for him. He doesn't wish to see it.
He averts his eyes carefully. "I'm sorry," he says in a quiet, choked voice. At the age of twenty-one, he is no more a man than he was at the fragile age of fifteen. He still feels the hurt, the lonliness that the graveyard brings. It gnaws at his heart in ways he had long forgotten. "I should have done something."
He knows there is nothing he could have done for the person in the grave. A gunshot to the chest usually does it for people, but not to this person, as he kept telling himself. There has to be something more, but he knows he is being foolish. The person is dead, and is never coming back, no matter how much he longs for them to.
This person, this person beneath his feet under the sodden dirt, is someone who played a huge role in his life, who often kept him going when he felt the need to give up. At the age of twenty-one, he knows he should not cry. Crying is not the manly thing to do, only babies cry like this.
'Screw being manly,' he thinks to himself, eyeing the grave again. The date of death just makes it seem so final, and he groans within, wishing it isn't so. He does not want this person to be dead and gone from his life. 'But I have to move on,' he thinks again. 'I have to. There is nothing I could have done. I just have to move on and get past this.'
Easier said than done, he knows. Staring at the grave a few moments longer, tears shimmering in his green eyes, he turned from the grave, whispering a quiet, "Goodbye," in his wake. "I'll miss you, old friend."
The grave stands silent in the darkening graveyard as he leaves, heading for home. Lightening strikes in the distance, illuminating the area for a moment.
And he leaves the grave, the grave titled:
Tom Raines,
beloved friend, father figure, and brother.
May he rest in peace.
Tires screech as a car drives away, carrying the twenty-one-year-old with it, down the lonely streets away from the mysterious, taunting graveyard.
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