One
I was a young Patriot and I fought in the Revolutionary against the Red Coats, you know, the British. I traveled by foot along with the older men going along with me. We marched right down to Delaware, and that is where I got shot in the chest and died. I was 17-years-old at the time, and I still am now.
Except the fact that I am dead and living in a graveyard ghost community.
Yes, there is a whole community of ghosts roaming around in a graveyard. I happen to be the youngest in our section but also the oldest from the era in which I died. The older ghosts treat me like a kid only because I look and kind of act like one.
Then there’s Barnaby Skills, (died in 1841), who is the head of our community, only because he is the wisest out of us all. He does have a small council group with him, but none of them match his intelligence. I stay clear of him when it comes to my mischief making. When there’s nothing to do for over 200 years, it gets a bit boring, so that’s why I like to play tricks on the other ghosts.
When they’re turned around, I run through their backs full force, making them vanish into a cloud of dust for a second, then they go right back into their normal shape. But before I get to see their reaction, Sally, (died recently)calls out to me, having a sense that I did something wrong—which she’s always right.
“Why do you have to go and do that to the other ghosts? They just want to have conversations, it’s not like they have anything else to do either.”
“You’re not my mom, why do you care about what I do to the others here? Before you got here, they were nothing but mean to me, you didn’t see it.”
“Before I came here, I had a son about your age, you know, the boy that comes to visit me every day? Well, I had to leave him behind with his father. Oh, Jeremy, I just need that connection with you that I had with my son, that’s all. I’m just asking for you to leave the others alone, because you don’t want Barnaby to come over here again, do you?”
I thought about it for a second, then answered, “Fine, they’ll be left alone. I’ll just go sit on my grave.” She smiled after me while I floated away. She always stayed by her own gravestone, that was set there not that long ago. She’s the newest one in the graveyard, and has already claimed me as her adopted son.
I’ve seen her real son come in a few times, that’s why she stays by her gravestone, to see him, hear him talking to her. I try not to watch because she starts to cry. I never see any of the other ghost’s cry, but when she does, I do.
I finally floated over to my gravestone, which is all the way in the back of the graveyard. My name is barely legible. It’s supposed to read: Jeremiah Curb, Born 1760, Died 1777, Beloved Son. There’s just a few letters thrown here and there. At least the stone itself is in pretty good shape, I’ve seen other gravestones cut in half or completely destroyed.
I hovered above it then lowered myself down on top of it. Most of my days were like this, do one thing bad, get lectured, then sit on my gravestone. The only exciting thing that happens every day is when the sun is just above the trees and I hear the main gates open. Sally’s son comes in to visit her, usually with one rose in his hand to replace yesterday’s one. Today I decided I wanted to watch and listen to what he had to say this time. I didn’t know a whole lot about Sally’s previous life, only that she was married, had a son the same age as me, and died of something called “cancer”.
I floated over to a gravestone that was close enough to listen in. Sally noticed me, and put a finger to her lips, silencing me. One of the graveyard rules is that we can’t talk around humans visiting in the graveyard. If we speak, we reveal ourselves to the human and that is why all the other ghosts stop their conversations when he comes in.
“Hey mom,” the boy began. He looked at the rose in his hand and set it down, then picked up the dead one. “I’m back again today, like I have been for the past year. I just need to get away from home sometimes, Dad’s being a real pain, he’s been like that since you left us. He’s not getting better, he’s actually, getting worse. I tried helping him by bringing him to a rehab center, but he gave me this instead.” The boy pulled away the hair hanging in his eyes to reveal a black circle around his eye. Sally cupped her hand over her mouth, she began crying. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, I swear, only when I touch it. I wish I could sleep in here next to you, and keep you company. I really don’t want to go back, mom. He doesn’t know I come here every day, he thinks I go out with my friends. Nope, I come here and visit you.” The boy stopped talking and turned around to look at the sun setting behind the trees. “I’ll be back tomorrow, with another rose, I promise.” He patted the gravestone with his hand, that went right through Sally. “I miss you mom.” That was the last thing he said before walking quickly out of the graveyard, and shutting the gate behind him.
Once he left completely, Sally let it all out. She was crying uncontrollably, so I floated over to comfort her. “Sally, please don’t cry . . . ”
“I can’t help my own son! I’m stuck here, dead, in this graveyard while he’s out there dealing with my abusive husband! Just leave me alone for a while.” She sunk into her grave, not saying another word.
The sun disappeared quickly behind the trees. Before I knew it, it was dark out. And when it gets dark in the graveyard, we report to our graves immediately, or we have to deal with the ghouls. The ghouls, in our graveyard, can eat us. That’s why we hide in our graves. They started to appear a few years after I came into the graveyard. I was lucky to get away from them some time ago. They do not stop at nothing, but if they see no ghosts roaming around, they leave. But that doesn’t mean we get to come out of our graves, no, we wait until the sun comes up, when the ghouls are gone for good.
As I laid in my grave, I kept thinking about Sally, and how she cried for her son and what she left him behind to deal with. I wanted to help, in some way, but I’m in the same situation she is: dead. We are prohibited to talk to the living, so talking with him is out of the question. There is another way I could help, but I would need to talk to someone very important in the morning.
Ghosts do not sleep though. We are not sleeping in our graves, we are just hiding from the ghouls, which I mentioned before. So, I lay, hiding in my grave for the rest of the night. The plan I was working out was going to be dangerous, but I would do it for Sally.
