The Cemetery - IV

Part 1

Norman

December 31^st, ‘19

I’ve kept what I’ve found from the boys. I’m not sure they’d even care to know or have a reaction but I feel it’s best to keep it from them for their sanity. I’m not even sure what I’ve read thus far.

                I’ve received word from the overseer about the cemetery. It will be closed from new plots after the new year. A week ago a man came to assess the land and deemed it overfull. That means little for me. I’ll still be kept employed for the duration of my contract for tending. Though that does mean the boys won’t be returning to help me. That’s fine. Upkeep I can do on my own. These old hands just weren’t meant to dig multiple holes.

                I raise a toast as it is almost midnight. The new year is upon me and I have no woes.

2^nd January, 1920

I just awoke from a terrible dream. With it still fresh in my mind I want to write it down.

                It began with me standing in a great gray and blue expanse. There were people milling about as if in a great London mist. I had been to London once in my life and it was the most dreadful experience of my life. Cold and rain and mist. I couldn’t see two feet in front of my own damn face and the people that were around came out of nowhere. That same dreadful feeling came upon me in this dream. As if I was lost in a maze of mist and shambling bodies.

                All around I heard whispers and I tried to speak but no sound came from my mouth. I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from until I realized, in that way your dreams tell you how things are, that the voice was coming from my own head. Not my voice, but a voice inside, like my conscience. It wasn’t like that voice though, it was something else, something that felt wrong. Like a scrapping sound that sends chills down your spine.

                I can only recall bits and pieces of its words but one thing stuck out to me.

                “Do you accept?”

                The voice was asking me a question. Accept what? I wondered. I didn’t answer. But before it could ask again I awoke in a cold shivering. The wind was howling outside and the snow was blowing.

                I don’t know what that dream was, hell I’d rather call it a nightmare now. I shouldn’t drink so much.

5^th January, 1920

It’s the new year and my hangover is finally over. Probably didn’t help that we got a snow storm the first of the new year. Put me out. I’ve been able to get out today and finally shovel a bit. I sent letters out to the boys thanking them for their help and informing them that their contracts are up.

                I need to get to the mausoleum roof today and get the snow off. The damned thing has been in disrepair for years and won’t be able to handle that weight for too long.

                I’m not even sure I want to waste ink on this but I’ll be damned if I don’t. When I was on top of the mausoleum I had a perfect vantage point of most of the cemetery, and the sanitarium next door. The air was crisp and clear and cold. With my shovel in hand I began my task. To the west I saw the top of the girl’s statute and, if my eyes aren’t going cross in my old age, I saw something move. It was like a shadow fluttering in the wind though nothing is by the statue now that moves. I’m sure it’s nothing, but after reading that damned diary, I’m not sure what lay by that girls statue.

                I flipped a few pages ahead in the diary but I found there are only two pages left. Perhaps I’ll finish them tonight with a cup of tea. I feel like I’m reading a penny dreadful.

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