DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

Reading the Newspaper in the Morning

She questions her life while she is surrounded by death.  The clouds meet the sun in an intimate embrace.  Her feet kick the gravel of a path that winds like a clock around the cemetery. 

Time is running out.  Her mission: to find her tombstone.  The all-to-serious seeming reality: that she will never find it.  But the obituary from last week that she had just read said that this place should be her new home.

She finds a mausoleum in the center of it all.  The windows are stain glass, so she can’t see through, into it. 

She puts her hand up to her heart.  There is no beat.  She imagines that the dead around her are six feet under, planted there by the Grim Reaper, the Angel of Death, a being that holds all of the anger of the underworld, of those who are victims of passing. 

The morning turns to afternoon, afternoon melts into the night, while the girl who portrays the limbo of uncertainty in her eyes passes through a place filled with stone markers of death.  She finds her residence- a rectangle, five by ten feet.  She picks up the dirt and lets it fall through her fingers. 

The glossy marble reads: “Audrey Jenkins, Beloved Daughter and Sister.”  She runs her fingers over the deep, smooth impression.  A mouse runs out in front of her.  The second after she sees the red in its eyes, time freezes.  Everything is silent.  Her intuition tells her that she will need to leave everything behind, soon.  The only thing that the light above asks of her is that she sees this place one more time; that she will never forget how cool the earth under her is, how peaceful she feels as the rain begins to fall on her face.  She hopes that it will get better.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.