The Cemetery - I

Norman

1919

October 17^th ‘19

                Twelve more graves need to be dug this week. Between that and maintenance I’m at my wits end. I wish I could hire at least one hand to help me with this. Usually I can handle the work load. Normally people don’t die this fast but this damn flu. It’s a ravager, I can’t keep up. My hands are shaking even now with fatigue from shoveling. I’m going to petition for two more hands at least for the weekend to keep up with this.

                I figured that after the war ended and the killing had stopped I would have had some down time. At this rate the whole damn place will be full before too long.

October 25^th ‘19

                My petition was accepted and I’ll have two new hands come tomorrow. I could’ve used them sooner but I won’t look this gift horse in the mouth. Pushing back with the overseer is a gamble in of itself. I won’t test him.

October 27^th ‘19

                These two new fellas aren’t so bad. One, Oscar, reminds me of my son Michael. Full of energy, always cracking jokes, even when they are a bit too morbid even more my tastes. I’ve been a grave tender for 39 years and I’m happy to say I still have a shred of civility left in my old bones.

                We started to dig on the west end of the cemetery today, some old land that had been partitioned closed from the first years by the looks of it. All land had been ceded due to the influx of bodies so I have free reign over all previously closed plots. I feel a bit bad for that in a way. Some of these families have been laid to rest here since the cemetery opened in 1712. A parcel of land was bought from the landowner when the daughter of a friend died inexplicably. Or so the legend goes.

                I was telling the boys, if they cared to hear, that most of these old stones have a story. Since each person buried beneath has their own stories as well.

                When we came upon the grave site there was a statue to commemorate the girl that had been buried there. The first tenant of Westknell back in 1712. An ornate and lifelike statue was built to cover her grave site and a hedge was built around it. That hedge would now be cut down and the ground around her would be utilized. I hate disturbing the dead like this. The young boys don’t understand my hesitation. I don’t think I can fully explain it to them.

October 30^th ‘19

                The hedge was removed fully today and we started to dig. We took a five foot radius distance away from the girls grave and began on the east side where the first hedge was released. It was the easiest stretch of ground to unearth and made the work day go by quickly. Since I had two assistance I had time to leave them to their work and check on other happenings around the cemetery. I’m currently taking a little lunch break to write this as well. I’m so happy to have those boys. I never realized how lonesome this job can be despite the fact I was surrounded by countless souls. I guess the live thing makes a huge difference.

                Alright, back to work. Don’t want them to think I’m slacking off in here.

                Oscar found something rather strange while digging. I returned to their place by the girl’s statute to see them staring at the hole they had dug. They looked dumbfounded. When I came around I shouted to get their attentions dull as they were with shock. All they could muster was to point and gawk. I shouldered past them and felt myself fill with the same confusion. Oscar had exhumed a grave. There wasn’t meant to be any person buried there but the same they had found someone’s remains.

                I hopped into the hole to brush over the bones. They appeared to be placed there on purpose but to my knowledge there was never meant to be another person buried here, not even the girls relatives. Next to the skull was a tightly bound wax ornament, the size and shape of a book. I retrieved the item and have since placed it in my shack. I haven’t had the heart yet to open it, but I hope when I do it reveals some answers to me about the bones. In the meantime I’ve told the boys to recover those bones and start anew in a different plot five feet away from that one.

November 5^th ‘19

                No other bodies were found in the places around the statue and we were able to make four new graves in the plot. Once they were finished I deemed it necessary to place a new shrub above the old bones. Without a marker or information to denote who the bones belonged to it seemed best to simply recover it. If someone were to protest that they needed the plot I would be adamant about keeping it closed.

                I moved the boys to another section of the cemetery, another closed partition that would need to be opened, and had them begin. Over the past week I’ve been toying with the wax item I found in the grave. Part of me desperately wants to pry it open and peer what’s inside, another part, a larger part, wants me to place it back in the ground. A nagging at my mind to let dead things lie and be at rest. My curiosity is getting the better of me.

November 13^th ‘19

                It’s getting colder now and the ground is getting a little harder to pry up. We need to move fast to meet the stifling demands. Ten more dead. On top of the twenty over the past two weeks, I’m surprised the three of us haven’t been victim to the disease.

                The new plot has been rather difficult, full of rocks and roots. The section was cordoned off by the owner back in 1816. The way it was situated with trees and vines, wrapped around the statue of a young man sitting, you’d think they had made it so the statue would be encased. We had to spend almost as much time cutting libs from trees and hacking off the vines as we did uprooting the damn things. The work should be done by tonight at least.

                Kenneth, the older boy, almost got himself killed the dumbass. We were cutting down branches and he, hanging from one larger branch, falls and lands on top of the statute. His clumsiness almost made the whole damn thing fall over onto the ground. Thankfully, and hopefully to no ones notice, only a small section cracked and broke off. An old piece that seemed to be fashioned after the fact to fix a broken patch job. I plan to fix it next week once the supplies come in. We ran out of the needed parts to do patchwork a month ago and it was a struggle just to get new shovel heads for the two hires. The damn overseer is a bastard.

November 18^th ‘19

                Finally, we received a shipment of supplies this morning. We had to halt all work on the new section since another set of shovels broke under the strain of the hard earth. They were old shovels and needed replacing anyway, I’m just glad the overseer is in such a good mood to give us such supplies. First thing today I’ll go out to the man statue and repair it.

                I’ll be damned. In the hole was another wax fixture the size of a small book, not unlike the first one we found. I didn’t show this one to the boys, not that I think they’d care, they didn’t ask any questions about the first one. I have them both in my shack and my curiosity is burning like crazy. I have to know what’s inside.

                As I suspected they are both journals of some kind. The wax was used as a repellent from decay. It has appeared to work, as the pages are as crisp as they were, I assume, when they were written. The first one, found with the bones, are written by a Mathias Danforth, and the other, found in the statue, is the diary of an Amelia Harris.

                I’ve sent the boys home and told them I would call upon them again when needed. The weather is starting to turn sour but thankfully it seems the flu is subsiding. The local doctor says it should be all but gone by January. I can only hope. For now I’m intrigued by these tomes lost to time. I’ll start with Mathias since it seems only fitting.

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