The Rift

Chapter 15

I didn’t know where I was. It was dark out, and I was lost, although it was entirely my fault. My only choice was too keep pedaling, hoping to come across some landmark that I would recognize, but I was in the middle of some neighbourhood on the other side of town from my house. I didn’t even know I how got there. So I pedaled.

And I pedaled some more.

And some more.

And more, until I found a field, long and dark, covered by darkness, so it was hard to see what it was. Since I had nothing better to do, I went to check it out. I thought that, at least, I would have a good view of the stars. But curiosity killed the cat. As I entered the gate, walking my bike beside me, I realized where I was.

It was a graveyard. Rows and rows of blocks of stone, all different shapes and shades of gray. Each had a different inscription, each remembering someone long gone. The pieces by me were old and dark, the names and dates barely readable in the night. I was at the old side, where the first people had been buried. The fresh graves would be at the other end of the long field. I knelt down by the grave nearest my feet, and squinted to read in the faint glow of the moon,

John Walker Jan. 3 1926- Dec. 30 1989

I walked over to the next one, a similar shape and size to the one before. It read,

Eliza Walker Feb. 3 1925- Jan. 3. 1990

Bored, I decided to look around. I walked slowly throughout the graves, carefully reading each one that I could. Graveyards scare a lot of people. They never have been scary to me. What’s there to be afraid of? It’s just people who have died. People die every day. There’s nothing to be afraid of in their graves. In fact, I find it kind of interesting. I like to imagine who they were, and what they might have done, and what they might have worked as, or who they might have lived with. I liked to look at the flowers placed on some of the newer graves, and think of who might have taken the time to come and place them there. I looked at the graves of the old, and the young, and wondered what might have happened to kill a five year old boy, or what it might feel like to be almost 100 years old.

 It was more peaceful at night, because I was the only one there. Nobody else wandered through the graves. Nobody was here laying flowers, nobody was here but me. Me and all the people under the ground, marked by stones.

I don’t know how long I spent wandering through the graveyard, but by the time I reached the newer, shiner, cleaner graves, the moon was directly overhead.  These graves were the ones with elegant bouquets, these were the ones that might have died only a few months before, or earlier this year. There were the ones with cards and roses and daises, I even saw one that was completely obscured by flowers and wreaths, and I couldn’t even read the name Slowly I came to the very last row of graves. These ones were dated for very recently, for some, even the week previously, the earth still looking freshly dug.

I sat down in front of the graves, on the opposite end from the one I had started on. Only now did I realize that I was really tired. But I didn’t want to sleep, not when sleep meant dreams.  And I definitely didn’t want to sleep in the middle of an open field.

I stood up, and walked over to a tree that was sitting near the half-way point in the field. I dragged my bike over, placed it against the trunk, and sat down, leaning my head against the bark and looking up through the leaves and into the stars.  There was only the smallest sliver of moon visible; the rest was obscured by black. In a couple of days, there would be no moon at all. Looking at the long branches, and the big, familiar leaves, and realized that I was sitting against a maple tree. I had done this not too long ago, but with a little girl right next to me, her head on my chest, and her tears in my shirt. Then, I had her. Now, I was alone.

Looking back down, away from the stars, I noticed something else, which I hadn’t seen from farther away, when I wasn’t paying attention. When I did notice, it started to scare me a little, something the graves and the people who had died hadn’t managed to do.

There were purple flowers all over the ground. For some reason, the seemed to circle around this tree, and only this tree. I hadn’t seen them while wandering in the graves because they weren’t over there. They were only by the maple. Faith’s flowers were surrounding the maple. I shifted on the ground, not wanting to sit here any longer. This was just too much like The Rift. Standing up and pulling my bike with me, I started to walk away from the tree, intending to leave the graveyard and try to find the gas station I had been at before. But as I tried to walk away, my bike caught on something, and I had to turn back.

Something else I hadn’t noticed before was caught near the back wheel. With terrified steps, I walked back to the tree. My bike had caught on a very small gravestone that I hadn’t seen before. It was a very bright silver, fresh stone, and flowers had taken over the earth around, probably planted here by family members. The flowers might even have been her favourite kind. The maple might even have been her favourite tree. The name on the grave was written in beautiful, curly script, and the grave was covered in carved flowers, and seashells. It was beautiful, but at the same time, I could scarcely stand to look at it.

Faith Hannigan.

I didn’t want to read the dates. I didn’t want to see her name, beautifully written on a gravestone. I didn’t want to stand here, on the place where I knew she was buried. But I had no choice. Because no matter how badly my mind wanted to run, I couldn’t remember how to move anymore. I fell to my knees in front of the grave. My tears stained the gray stone. My sobs filled the silence of the graveyard, echoing around me.

Did she know? Did Faith know that the place she had created for herself in the Rift is indeed the place she would remain forever? Did she know that this place, the little field with the flowers and the maple, was her final resting place? Even if she hadn’t known before, she would now. Because I did, and that meant the Rift did too. If the Rift knew, Faith knew. But would she care? I wasn’t sure.

I wondered who had planted the purple flowers that had grown and spread around her grave. Her crying mother and father, wondering where they had gone wrong? Or had the flowers simply been there before? And the tree. Had it been planted with her death? Or had it already been growing there before?

I moved over to sit by her grave. All of a sudden this didn’t seem like that bad of a place to settle down. In fact, it felt kind of cozy. Like I wasn’t alone in the graveyard anymore, even though there was nobody there. Then again, you’re never really alone in a graveyard.

I wondered if Faith lived near here. If she had run through these streets, if she had walked in this graveyard, like I had tonight. Would she have wanted to be buried here? I don’t think so. I don’t think she would have wanted to be buried at all. At least, she didn’t now, even if she had before.

I wondered if my parents would put flowers on my grave. I wondered if Nick would come to my funeral. I wonder if they would cry. I wondered who would care if I died.

I realized, I didn’t want them to have too. I didn’t want to make my parents that sad. I didn’t want nick to have to see my grave, thinking he hadn’t done enough. I didn’t want my teachers to see my empty desk and wonder why they hadn’t seen the signs. I didn’t want to cause people that much pain. I didn’t want Faith to think that I had thrown her promise aside. If everybody that I love was hurting, I didn’t want it to be my fault.

As usual, Faith had been right. I had found my own way to the place I needed to start. And I wasn’t sure where I needed to go next. But I’ll just keep riding, and I’ll find my way there.

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Hey!

Sorry this chapter is so short, but I wanted to end it there. I’m almost finished part two!! So hold on!!

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