Two weeks. It had been two weeks since they had died. He still couldn't quite grasp it. His parents were gone...well, almost parents. Foster parents since he was a baby. But he knew them like parents...and missed them like parents. He didn't know what would happen now. There were two different families trying to get legal custody for him. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Except his sister. Sarah. She wasn't his real sister either. In fact, she was almost exactly the same age as him, as far as anyone could figure. She was another foster child his parents had adopted. Nobody knew who either of their parents was. Like all those mysterious kids, they had shown up on the orphanage doorstep one night. The orphanage mistress had been kind enough to take them in. Then about a year later they were adopted. And now they were orphans again...
"JOHN!" He started. "You were daydreaming again," Sarah, his sister, was standing in front of him, a worried look on her face. "It's weird; you keep slipping off...almost like you fall asleep. But your eyes are still open."
"Yeah, you've said before. Now, what was I saying again?"
"You were going out for a walk? I wanted to go with you."
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, come along," John glanced at the clock. "Wow, was I really out for that long?"
"Just a couple of minutes."
"Really? Weird. Well, anyway, let's go."
They walked out into the apartment hallway. The place where they had made so many memories. Of course, now they would be living somewhere else, but until they knew where, the owner of the apartments was letting them stay. 'He probably feels sorry for us' John thought.
"Let's go to the graveyard." Sarah suggested in the elevator.
"Okay." John said. He wouldn't mind visiting their parents' graves again.
The graveyard was about five minutes walk from the apartment complex. They were silent until they arrived.
"That's interesting," John commented. "New decor. Looks like they redid some of the gravestones too."
"They do look nicer," Sarah agreed. "And I like all the new statues for the memorials."
They approached their parent’s grave and stood, silently, each in their own memories. The stone was a normal tombstone with a small inscription.
John and Sarah Stone.
John - Born 1959 - Died 2013
Sarah - Born 1961 - Died 2013
"It's still hard to not see them as our parents," Sarah sighed.
"I know exactly what you mean," John replied. He looked up from the grave. The trees were all bare, and the ground was covered with orange, brown, and red leaves. The stones and statues looked...sad. That was the best word for it. Sad.
Suddenly, he stiffened. "Sarah, something's wrong. Something's changed."
Sarah turned. She had learned to trust her brother when he used that tone of voice. And he usually had good reason to. His memory was photographic. He could describe a picture in a kid’s book their parents had read them ten years ago. No joke. He had proven it.
"What?" She asked
"Something is missing..." He looked around. "The angels for the memorial!" He cried. "They're gone."
Suddenly, Sarah screamed. John looked down at her. Her usually bright cheeks had gone chalk white. She was staring behind them with an expression of horror. John turned around. Behind them, amongst the gravestones, the statues from the memorial were standing. But they had changed. Instead of peaceful, beautiful angels, covering their faces as though they were crying, their hands were now stretched toward John and Sarah, claws reaching out to them. But the worst part was their faces. They now had a demon-like snarl, fangs protruding from their mouths. The Angels had changed, but they stood completely still.
"What are they?!" Asked Sarah.
"Weeping Angels," John responded. "Don't blink."