Life and Death {Enoch O'Connor}

16

Enoch always loved autumn as a kid. He loved raking piles of leaves to jump into with his sister. He loved the crisp air and returning home to be warmed up by his mother's home cooked stews or fresh baked goods. He loved watching the trees change color, the Scottish landscape painted with warm shades of orange, yellow, and red. 

Autumn brought a certain feeling and atmosphere to his neighborhood. While it was beautiful, the season was commonly associated with death, as all the plants turned dry and brown ahead of the coming winter months. And at the end of October came celebrations such as Hallowe'en leading into All Saints Day. Hallowe'en brought the whispers of evil spirits, witchcraft, and all things creepy. Maybe that was another reason why Enoch loved it so much. For three short months, he didn't feel so out of place in the world. It was as if mother nature herself created the season just for him. He enjoyed going out guising with his little sister, where he could dress up as something scary and receive treats or coins instead of being teased like he usually was. He could embrace his inner demons instead of shunning them.

It was also a time when he felt most comfortable taking trips to the local cemetery. Sure, he would visit often at any time of year, but autumn was the best. He felt less judgment towards his visits when Hallowe'en was near. Many kids and young adults visited the graveyard around this time, whether it was to honor their relatives or, more likely, just to get a spook. 

The cemetery was only a quick walk from his home--it had to be seeing how his parent's work took them there so often. If Enoch wasn't at his clearing in the woods, he could often be found wandering around the headstones, reading each engraving with care. The leaves crunched under his feet as he paced up and down the rows of tombs looking at every name and every date. These were once people--real live humans just like him--now buried, dust and bone, under the earth. He must have seen hundreds of caskets lowered into the ground by now. Some were empty--just symbolic as their ashes were given to families--others containing real bodies, left to decompose underground. Whether he could see them or not, he was surrounded by dead people. 

The leaves below Enoch's feet crunched as he stepped, the golden light of the setting sun shining in his eyes, causing him to squint as his eyes traced over the headstones. 

Murdoch Brodie 1771-1839

Ruth  MacCallan 1858-1937

Eòghan  Dòmhnallach 1644-1701

There were people of all ages, all generations, all eras, buried right beneath his feet. Each had once lived a life that may have seemed far different from Enoch's but yet so much was the same. They all had experienced childhood, love, friendship, and loss. They all had eaten similar foods and drank the same water. They grew crops from the same soil and raised families on the same land. Their time and stories may have all been different but they all had one trait in common: Humanity. Despite how different the course of their lives may have been, they all lived and died, now buried in the earth. Maybe some still had living relatives to carry on their memory but many had been long forgotten by now. 

It was that mindset that helped Enoch deal with the trouble in his life. When bullies picked on him, he knew that in the end, they would be no better off than him. They'd all wither away to bones, their memory lasting only a generation or two longer. Then they'd be gone forever--just like everyone else who had lived and died before them. It was a dismal outlook but it helped Enoch get by. 

A cool breeze swept through the cemetery, stirring up some leaves as they blew across the ground and scattered about. Enoch tugged his woolen coat tighter around his body, burying his chin in his scarf. Goosebumps prickled his skin, even under all his layers. He shivered but continued on through the graveyard.