By Harlowe Pilgrim
“Yes Mother.”
“Have you finished your chores?”
“Yes Mother.”
“Then of course you may run along and
play. Just be sure to steer well clear of the cemetery … that’s
no place for children.”
“Unless they’re dead,” the
youngest said.
One of her siblings nudged her.
Mother looked stern, but then softened.
“Very well then, off with you now.”
The children lost not a moment,
scrambling out the door.
“And remember,” she called from the
threshold, “not in the cemetery. You’re not to play in the
cemetery!”
They passed quickly out of ear shot and
into the countryside.
Mother returned to her work, which was
somehow never done.
“Come on.”
“But Mother said we’re not to play
in the cemetery,” protested the youngest.
“Come on,” she was urged by her
siblings, as they entered the
cemetery through its open iron gate.
“What about Mother?”
“Mother will never know,” one of
her sisters said. “Here … you cover your eyes, and count to …
ten … no, thirty.”
“We’re going to hide,” one of her
brothers said, “and after you get done counting―”
“I
can’t count to thirty,” the youngest said.
“Can
you count to ten?” another brother said.
“Yes,
on my fingers.”
“Just
count to ten, three times.”
“Is
that the same?”
“Yes,”
a sister said, “it’s the same thing.”
“Alright
then … I guess.”
“Cover
your eyes …”
“Now
start counting,” another of her sisters said. “And no peeking.”
“Okay.
One … two ...” Realizing she couldn’t count on her fingers and
cover her eyes at the same time, she turned and faced the stone wall,
and held her hands out where she could see them. “Three … four …”
Dusk
was setting in early, on what had already been a dim and dour,
overcast day.
The
sky was becoming dark as the stones in the wall.
“Huh
…” she gasped and jumped. “Oh … OH MY!”
A
snake slithered out of a crevice at the bottom of the wall.
Her
heart pounded in her chest, and she’d have screamed, had she been
able.
The
serpent continued on, small and harmless amongst the mossy stones,
and was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Oh
my …”
She
turned away from the wall, and its wicked creeps. “I’m scared!”
she hollered into the field of sleeping dead. “I saw a snake! It
was big and slimy! And I don’t want to play here!”
She
knew she’d been told, time and time again, that snakes are not
slimy. It was merely the shininess of their scales that looked
slimy. Fiddlesticks! This one was slimy! And no one was telling
her otherwise!
The
cemetery full of hidden playmates yielded not a sound.
“DID
YOU HEAR ME? WHERE ARE YOU? I SAW A SNAKE!”
Still,
the response was nil.
She
sighed, and looked at her fingers. “It must have been ten of you,
three times, by now.” Her eyes searched the expanse of dreary grave
markers. “AS SOON AS I FIND YOU … WE’RE GOING HOME! I’M NOT
STAYING HERE WITH ALL THESE …”
A
crow landed atop the stone wall behind her—some distance away, but
it still startling to a little girl, and she jumped.
“… dead
people,” she continued, meekly.
She
wished not to feel the chill running up her spine, and for the
goosebumps to subside, as she made her wary way into the field of
monumental rock.
Somebody
giggled … she heard it, for sure. Up ahead, and to the …
Somebody
else giggled … it was behind her this time.
She
turned and started back that way.
There
was a scruffing … a noise like a body, on the ground and writhing.
“Ah-ha,”
she said, speaking it under her breath as she crept, stalking the
noise that she’d heard. “I found you.”
Somebody
giggled again, and she felt sure from behind which of the stones it
had come.
She
tiptoed up to it, and sprang to face whatever hid behind.
“Found
you!”
Nobody
was there.
Her
eyes darted from grave to grave.
Why
did they have to play someplace so scary?
Mother
was right. Children had no place in a cemetery.
Unless
they were dead.
She
turned around …
“HA!”
her cruel brother jumped at her.
And
she just about shot out of her skin.
“AHHH!
That was mean!”
He
chuckled as he ran away, deeper into the hallowed yard. “You didn’t
find me—I found you! So I get to hide again!”
“That’s
not fair! I don’t want to play!”
The
wet warmth of tears began streaming down her cheeks.
“I
told you I’m scared!” She started to bawl. “I hate this game.”
She
started walking. “I can’t find you! At least give me some
hints!”
There
was a whoop up ahead.
Somebody
let out a whistle.
Now
she would find them!
This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2014.
Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.
###
Copyright 2014 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC
This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2014.
Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.
Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim
No comments:
Post a Comment