The twilight broke through dying sunset; which left vague and scattered patches of cold within the sky. Like the end of a glowing match, the golden colours that once prevailed through the darkening sky, now faded so swiftly. It left behind a bizarre white sheet- one like satin or silk- which made it appear as though the sky was bare.
A soft chill fluttered through the air, and with it a distant hum was carried from the neighbouring town which lay by the steps. Occasionally, the haunting melody of jarring church bells pierced through the almost-silence.
As though shrouding itself in a blackened cloak, the sky above still proceeded to grow darker. The air was fresh and and cold, and hosted clouds which seldom had enough strength, nor vigour, to fill the sky.
Briefly and at sporadic occasions, some clouds would spit out desolate rain, which bathed the town bellow, and the place in which I stood. The rain always carried with it such a bleak smell. It was one of hopelessness and death- death without redemption or resurrection.
As my eyes darted around the scene, I saw a myriad of gravestones, each varying in size, shape and colour. Many, if not most, were incredibly weather damaged. They each revealed such mystifying patterns which had been fashioned by the repetitive force of the rain bearing down. It appeared as though centuries of constant rainfall hard carved and eroded away much of the stone.
As the moon began to materialise in the languid, black sky, I looked around and absorbed the reposeful scenery. In a place of such silence and despondency, I found my soul calmed and my spirits content.
I began to walk through the graveyard, trailing my feet across the grass which grew so unkempt from every direction. Slowly and aimlessly, I wandered through the macabre site, allowing the moon to so faintly illuminate the names upon the graves. Most were illegible and undefined, due to being distorted and blurred by rain. Yet others I read clearly with such interest; I pondered what their lives may once have been like. A concept like death is so wild, so intense, for the troubled mind to ponder, at times of liminality such as this.
The amber luminescence cast shadows of the gravestones, which crept so ominously across the grass. To my tired eyes they looked like the dead- striving to escape from their graves through medium of the shadows.
I felt a wave of sympathy for those who lay within these graves. Many were dead and cold without any love or family from mortal life. Many were even nameless; their crumbling graves left depraved of scripture.
As I roamed the dismal graveyard, allowing myself to walk amongst the dead, I felt melancholic connection towards those who lay below me. With the waning moonlight beaming down from above, I allowed my hand to grace upon the headstones.
Each time I passed a grave I touched it for a moment with my porcelain fingertips. As I did, I felt such a peculiar feeling. Each time I traced my weakened fingers across the weathered graves, I seemed to feel my very life flow into the people who lay beneath.
Through my fingertips, the life and vitality that coursed trough my blood transferred- as though by electrocution- into the still blood of those whom lay dead. The very spirit that kept me alive began to drain from me and fuel the people in the graves.
Like an electrical current it trickled out from my own flesh, darted through the decaying stone of the graves, and sunk below the ground where the dead would rest. At first it felt so wonderful to replenish such life. I felt so glad to be passing life back to those who had lost it.
I continued to wander throughout the place, as the ever darkening sky hung thicker amongst me. I quickened my pace and almost danced out around; all the while I continued to caress the tops of the graves.
It soon began to drain me. As I pranced through a place which brought me such ominous joy, tapping my whitened fingers upon the stone soon started to do me harm. My body felt so drained of it's life and essence; as though all had been given to those beneath the soil. The electricity that once streamed throughout my blood, now all lay within the very hearts of those in their graves. Did this mean that they would come to life? I wondered to myself.
I did not spend much longer in the graveyard; I had grown uneasy from the looming thought of the dead coming alive. And I felt an abnormal beckoning from the distance. It was one which seemed to plead for my return to the safety of four walls.
In utter darkness I left the graveyard, tracing my fingertips over a final headstone as I left. Within the sky was pure and solid blackness- no stars, no moon, not even any visible clouds. Merely a formless shroud of black occupied my vision.
With a biting chill gripping me, with its arms tightened around mine, I walked home through the cold streets. They offered me such comfort, as did the graveyard, as both contained lonesome souls and morbid sights; offering my mind great serenity.
I would think of this night for the rest of my solitary life. Until I, too, would sink beneath the ground. Become one with the Earth which holds this life together. And lose my conscience to the stars. Until I visited the graveyard for the final time. And stayed until the End.
