The cold iron gate was wide open as she stepped through it. With grey skies above and yellow leaves underfoot, Emily trudged along, the wind gusting from all directions. She was barely able to keep her scarf from flying away, while also protecting the fragile contents under her jacket from the harsh elements. Another woman brushed past her in the opposite direction, and looking out at the rows of stone plaques, she realized that she had the entire graveyard to herself. "Wouldn't have it any other way," she said under her breath. She knew her way, but liked to wander among the rows, glancing at the names familiar from her constant visits, wondering who they used to be in their lives before. Some had names with titles such as grandmother, father, or even son. Some were simply names with years below it, with no special designs or even flowers resting at their bases.
She stepped up one row and knelt down in front of a tombstone that looked quite plain, aside from the subtle flowery design adorning its border. She took out from her jacket a bouquet of flowers, placed it on the ground in front of it, and sighed. Her knees sank and hit dry leaves with a soft crunch. For a while, she said nothing, letting the right words come together as her thoughts swirled around in her mind. She only spoke when she was sure she knew what she wanted to say.
"Well, I did it. I got the job!" Emily couldn't suppress a smile. "I remembered what you told me before my elementary school graduation. I was so scared of middle school, but I remember what you said to me. 'It's the end of something you're so familiar with, and the beginning of something brand new. You're starting over, and that can be scary. But if you look at this as a way to grow, you can do things in this new world that you'd never imagine you could do.'" She wiped a tear from her eye and continued.
"I wrote that down in my diary after we got home from the ceremony, and those words gave me a kick in the pants when I thought I'd never be able to become a reporter. I applied, and the newspaper…" She paused for a moment, still grappling with the reality, "... They said yes.” There was another silence as she formulated her thoughts once again. The serene chirping of birds helped distract from the noisy chaos that was the gale around here, and the words fell into line.
“You were always the strongest woman in my life, mom. You supported me at every turn, and you taught me to pick myself up when you weren’t near. I know you’re gone, but you still feel so near to me when I sit here. It’s almost like I could reach out and touch--”
Emily was interrupted by a rustling sound one row ahead that stood apart from the wind. She stood up and looked around, but couldn’t find the source of the noise. As she began to kneel down once more, she spotted it out of the corner of her eye. As leaves blew past a lonely tombstone emblazoned with nothing special, the earth in front of it seemed to be moving. This stole her attention, and she slowly stepped around the row in front of her.
As she moved closer, a gust of wind blew a cloud of dust, and she covered her face. When she uncovered it and brought her focus back to the strange happening, it seemed to have stopped. She waited for a moment, then shrugged. ‘It must have been the wind, or my imagination, or something,’ she thought, and just as she was about to turn around, a thumping sound started from in front of the grave. The ground seemed to be pulsating in one spot, and to her horror, that small spot burst open, dirt flying in all directions. The last thing she saw before she ran was what looked like a hand caked with dirt, scratching at the ground, pushing to the side the earth surrounding it.
