There are others here, some peaceful, some very angry. We
converse on occasion, but nothing too steady. I guess when you know you have an
eternity to talk; keeping constant contact doesn’t seem so urgent. A few other
points I feel necessary to clear up. Yes we can walk through walls, doors, and
any other object you can come up with, including the cemetery fence. We are
however unable to cross over open running water like a stream. I have no idea
why, but it just feels like an impossible wall to pass. Much like trying to
push yourself through solid concrete. On the other side of it, we can
absolutely pick up and move objects just like any living thing.
There was a new presence in the graveyard tonight. I can’t
really explain how I knew, but it’s a feeling we get, much like how one would know
when there is a unwanted guest in their home. It’s like a tickle at the back of
my mind or an itch that just can’t be scratched into submission. Something had
invaded my space and I needed to find out what it was.
I decided to first check out Amaranth Abby, it always seemed
like a common haunting ground for new acquisitions and living interlopers. When
I came up to the back I found the usual grumpy apparitions hanging about,
complaining about how things were when they were ‘younger’ ghosts. It’s sort of
funny as after death it’s all about how long you’ve been dead, nothing really
changes when you cross over.
Balser, my favorite haunting buddy, was hanging out in the
corner of the Abby. This man had seen it all as far as American history was
involved; he had even fought alongside General George Washington. I’m pretty
sure his family is the reason the cemetery exists at all. Balser seldom talked
about his days among the living, but when he did, the stories about Washington
were always the best. That man had a certain level of crazy that commonly gets
dubbed as eccentric.
“How fare thee Balser?” I called out to him.
“Oh, you know, still dead. And you?”
“Eh? Not too bad I suppose, been feeling a certain presence
around, how about you?” I asked back.
“Oh that. Yes, there’s something about tonight. But I think
it’s over on the other half.” Union cemetery had long since been split between
an eastern and western lots due to the ever expanding need for more places to
put people to rest. We were interned on the western site. Luckily it was a
short flight over to the eastern.
I didn’t much like going over to the eastern section, as one
would have to go past Babyland, a particularly saddening portion of the
cemetery. The cries of all the infants stuck in the hereafter, they would never
really know why or what for. Perhaps they were here for all the mothers who
passed in childbirth, those specters would croon and nourish the little ones as
best they could. They seemed so happy to do so. I would always pass by this
part in silent reverence.
-V-
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