Page 16 of A Curse On Black Lake
I shake my head, staring at her casket.
“Have—” I cut myself off and cough to clear my throat. “Have there been others here?” I ask him.
“A few have filtered through, and then Ms. Ruth and Pastor over there,” he says and points to them.
She deserved so much more.
“Okay, thank you.”
He dips his chin and goes back to his corner as I walk up to her simple casket. She’s in the pretty dress she always loved. She said my grandfather fell for her when she wore it to a dance in town. But now she gets to be with him. Maybe they’re dancing now.
My knees buckle and I drop into the front row pew and stare at her, as tears silently fall down my face. I’m going to miss you, Grams.
“Ms. Greer?” The funeral attendant puts a light hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my trance.
I shake my head. The Spirits were running wild, and I didn’t have the strength to tell them to shut it.
I glance out the window, and the sun has begun to set. Grams was adamant that all of this happen in one day.
“We will meet you at the graveyard in about twenty minutes,” he says.
In my funeral procession of one, I walk down the street to the graveyard at the edge of town. The sun and the rising moon cast a grey light over me. It’s hard to tell if it’s the town or maybe my mood. I suppose it could be both. With every step I take towards the graveyard, it feels like my feet grow heavier, and I’m beginning to sink into the mud from my dream, only there’s nomysterious cowboy to help me out. I’m on my own, sinking into the pits of my grief, drowning in the solitary bayou.
Grams had already picked out where she wanted to be buried, next to her husband and kids, my parents. It’s the only open stone casket around, so I go over and sit on the ground to wait, ignoring the singular chair placed next to the open cement box. Somehow it feels more depressing to sit in it. A shiver rolls down my spine as I stare at the cement casket built to fit hers. The water table is so high because of the lake, the dead have to be buried in crypts big and small above ground.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see something and force myself not to look. I can feel them here. Ghosts are real, and they aren’t these floating corporeal creatures. They are a different kind of spirit, not like the ones in my head. They’re angry — restless. They aren’t here to help anyone. I was taught to ignore them because they invite bad things to surround you. There are some things in this world you should never mess with, and ghosts are one of them.
The hearse — well, the horse-drawn carriage — pulls up to the graveside, and the gravedigger, funeral director, and Pastor Beckett hoist her coffin off the carriage and set it on the stand that lowers it into the cement box.
I stay seated, staring at it as Pastor Beckett says a prayer over her. Exactly as she wanted. When he finishes, he squats next to me and clasps my shoulder. “I’m sorry Eliana, she will be dearly missed. Let me know if you need anything. My door is always open.”
“Thanks, Pastor Beckett.”
He smiles sadly and leaves me.
I nod to the funeral director, and they lower her casket into the small crypt. When he’s done, the only gravedigger in town, Malakai, waits on the other edge. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait, Ms. Eliana? I’m happy to,” he says.
I glance up at his dark face and shake my head. “Grams wouldn’t want you to wait around for me. Go ahead. But I’m going to stay here if you don’t mind.”
“Take as long as you need,” he says.
The sound of dirt hitting the wood slaps my ears and thunders in my bones. She wanted dirt in there with her. She told me from dirt we came, to dirt we shall return, even if it’s above water.
Laying her to rest brings an edge of guilt slicing through me because a part of me is happy she isn’t struggling to live anymore. But the other part, that dark hidden fragment, is angry. It doesn’t matter if I knew this day would come, but it never makes it easier to say goodbye.
Malakai finishes, and I stare at the slight hump of black dirt before he moves the cement lid to seal her in there. The sound thuds, making me short of breath as a sob crawls up my throat, echoing into the darkening sky.
I’m frozen once again.
Something moves in my periphery, and I astutely ignore it. Grams would want me to go home because I’m giving these ghosts, the demons lurking, an easy target. But I can’t find it in myself to care. I’m not ready to walk away.
I see a small figure, and glance up. She’s a child. I know she’s not living, but she looks like she is. She doesn’t say a word, looking between me and my grandma.
Grams’ words keep rolling through my head.
Help him. He needs you to set us free.
All will be made well when you find it within each other.
