Willis Benson stood in his upstairs bedroom window and looked out over the small family cemetery that sat on the other side of the narrow dirt road in front of his house. His eyes followed the small figure of his wife as she made her nightly visit to the mausoleum where the dead body of their infant son had been laid to rest. He noticed a flash of lighting off in the distance and realized that a summer thunderstorm was brewing. He thought of going to his wife and making her come back inside but he knew that would be foolish; she would not come back until her motherly duties were finished.
Willis shook his head. He couldn't believe that he had given into his wife's grief and allowed her to still care for the child. He shuddered when he thought of her as she changed the diaper of and fed their dead son. He pictured her sitting in the rocking chair humming lullabies as she rocked the child to sleep. His brow furrowed as he thought of the money spent installing the gas pipeline and light that stayed forever lit because the child was afraid of the dark.
A loud clap of thunder startled Willis out of his musings. Turning his back from the window he had planned on going to the kitchen to make a pot of tea when a shrill scream made him pause. Another scream sent the man running from his bedroom, down the stair case and out into the summer storm. Moving as fast as his legs could carry him, Willis ran straight for the mausoleum. He pulled the door open and the sight he saw was one that would haunt him for the rest of life.