HOME
By Jen S.

Dusk in the graveyard had painted the horizon in colors of pale blue, delicate lavender and drab gray, casting an eerie spell upon the sepulchers of those eons’ dead. The eternal silence of the dead was shattered by the pitter-patter of small, delicate feet pounding on the soft earth made rich and moist by rotten flesh.

These footfalls belonged to a little girl of seven. She dodged cracked whitewashed stone and marble in her desperate attempt to escape THEM, those terrifying - things - which were chasing her. She looked over her shoulder time and again to ascertain that THEY were still thankfully not within the range of her vision. Her eyes were huge and terrified, akin to those of a trapped animal that knew it was about to be slaughtered but could do nothing to prevent it.

Well, THEY were still nowhere in sight. But that fact brought little relief, for even if THEY advanced slowly they did so relentlessly. So, clutching her porcelain doll to her chest a small bid for comfort, she continued on with her seemingly never ending task of escape, too terrified to even cry, frustrated that the graveyard was so massive it practically encompassed the whole nightmarish world and despairing that there was not a living soul within the universe to help her.

So she ran on, her dainty white dress, lacy white socks and white little girl’s shoes oddly untouched by the morbidity of her surroundings, just as the little doll, an even tinier replica of herself, was thus also unsoiled. She was nearing the oldest segment of the graveyard now, the place where gigantic granite angels with faces possessing a serene, unearthly beauty peered down upon her with their stone eyes, seeming to pass judgment upon her soul, making her spine tingle with added fear. Her whole world seemed consumed by fear; fear heaped upon terror, never ending layers of it, and it devoured all other emotions and tore down even the semblance of softer sensibilities stored in her memory. It was the feeling of being utter, doomed prey.

She tried to hide inside the large, bone-chillingly cold mausoleums. But somehow, by some sort of mental link she shared with those who pursued her, she knew it was futile to hide because THEY could sense her very being no matter how far she could get away from THEM. There was no safe place, no respite for her. THEY WILL get her in the end. This was inevitable. But she could not help but run. The fear demanded it.

It was at this point that she passed the crypts; a tunnel of endless darkness, guarded by the specter of a solitary sentinel in the form of a desolate weeping willow. Affront the gray stone structure was an ancient fountain. It had been a thing of beauty once, but has long since fallen into disrepair, its white stone eaten into by moss, its base thickly entwined in ivy.

Somehow, that solitary willow, that ruined fountain and that cold forbidding enclosure which held the dust of human bones - all these were VERY familiar to her.

A small frown appeared on her childlike face. `How odd' she told herself, wondering how she could have come across such a place in the past.

But her mind prodded her to investigate this bizarre phenomenon further, for the meantime forgetting even the soul wrenching fear of THEM. This matter just struck her as being utterly more important than her previous dilemma. She knew with certainty that she had been here before. And somehow this realization suffused her mind with ease. In some way, it made her fear of THEM lessen substantially, though the rationale behind this occurrence escaped her.

The darkness from within the crypt called to her softly. She had to obey its summons, being as it was the only source of comfort she had come across in her long and arduous bid for escape. She peered into it's mysterious depths, finally making her decision, while the naked branches of the weeping willow cast web like shadows on her face, transforming it into - something else.

`Well' she said to herself, thus resided `what else am I to do?  Might as well take this path.'  So she surged forward, steadily advancing into the shadows until she was swallowed by impenetrable darkness.

The chill inside the crypt vault was oppressing, the long silence in there seemed to have a life of its own which was suddenly threatened by the sound of her footsteps.

Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat…

She knew she had walked the maze of this place a thousand times before in the same utter darkness. But again, the logic of it escaped her. 

Nevertheless, each twist and turn of the corridors, each jagged façade, crumbling boulder and desiccated ancient wall she knew and remembered by heart, if not by sight. And she was forging on purposefully, eager to get to the bottom of this important mystery. She knew revelation would be awaiting her on the end of this macabre journey.

So it was that deep inside the maze, as she rounded a corner, she came to a halt instinctively.

The little girl turned her head to the left. THERE - that was what she had been searching for. She came closer to the old, mold encrusted marble of the vault seal, peering closely at the flamboyant script etched upon its surface, almost indiscernible as time and the forces of nature had nearly erased it from the surface of the limestone. But despite the corrosion the inscription was still readable, as in this specific portion of the maze the stone ceiling had crumbled under the destructive weight of father time, thus allowing pale shards of blue moonlight to pierce the otherwise ink black surroundings.

On the stone read:

Catherine Bloom

178-185 AC

Beloved daughter and sister.

Always in our hearts.

RIP

At last the floodgates of her mind opened and the gaps in her memory were filled. Eons of non-use had made her mind rusty. She shook her head as though to clear it and even gave a little amused smile.

She went on to inspect the vault, finding that its edges betrayed signs of being opened time and again.

Something else interfered with her thoughts, though. THEY were near. THEY were still searching for her. She could see THEM clearly now with her mind’s eye as the previously debilitating, irrational fear had lessened its hold on her mind. THEIR hands were outstretched before THEM stiffly, as stiff as THEIR gait, if in fact THEY were walking, since some were missing THEIR limbs and simply crawled on the ground, arms and legs having rotten away. THEIR desiccated were riddled with open wounds festered with maggots.  

And always the eternal sound, "Mmmmmmmm…" coming from long decayed throats, calling out in anguish. Oh, how they cared for her, she realized, 
to leave their sanctuaries to search for a missing beloved, as only true friends would do.

Her face split into a smile. Her porcelain cheeks cracked as the long ago dehydrated parchment of her skin gave way under the strain inflicted upon it by the unfamiliar change of expression.

Peace and love filled her.

 The fear was banished completely.

 "I'm coming, my friends,” Catherine called out to them through their shared link. "I'm coming home."

END