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Life Is Wasted On The Living
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On my usual walk home from school I took an unusual detour into a graveyard that I
passed by everyday. I’d been meaning to take a look inside but never had until that day. It
always gave off a signal like it didn’t want me there. But suddenly I felt welcome as I crossed
the street to take a look. It was a crisp fall afternoon and the wind blew cold, fresh air around me.
I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets as I approached the rock wall of the little cemetery.
The air stung my skin with daggers lovingly. The fallen leaves flew about like a visual
symphony and landed as the wind came and went. I moved my hand against the cool rock as I
arrived at the small wrought-iron gate. I hesitated in touching it but as I went to pull it open it
wouldn’t budge. I stood, momentarily defeated, until I noticed a long rock from the wall that
had toppled over and acted as a bridge. I brushed my hand through my short brown hair and
stepped up onto the rock. As soon as I did I felt a change. It was a subtle one but it made my
spine shiver and my hair stand up on end.
Trees loomed over the edges of the rock like dark guardians to the dead. The
gravestones stood tall and proud to bear the names of those buried beneath them. There were
many small, unmarked graves and large ones that held beautiful epitaphs. I was entranced as I
took in the lives all of these people once had. They all shared the name of Frost but one in
particular caught my eye. The stone bled white over the engraved words but the name stood
prominent and untouched: Joseph B. Frost.
I knelt on the ground in front of the stone and admired the small American flag that
waved. I traced his epitaph with my finger as I read:
To die tis but to pass.
All free from Deaths’ domain here.
To burst the bonds from Earth and flee
From every mortal fear.
To plunge within that gulf untried
And stand beyond it glorified.
I sat down completely on the cold dirt and grass as I faced the old stone. The ground was soft
and you could feel where the graves were and I sat directly on top of one. The wind returned
once more and this time I could hear the symphony as well as see. It whistled through the trees,
singing a sweet requiem to the spirits that stayed behind.
I closed my eyes and let the wind tousle my hair and caress my face. As I slowly
opened my eyes I felt the wind leave through the same way I entered: Over the rock bridge.
Everything became unnaturally quiet and the strong pine scent from the tree jolted me back to
consciousness. I jumped to my feet and approached the rock wall with my arm extended. I
reached out to touch the air outside of the cemetery but my hand hit a wall. That skin prickling
feeling returned as I ran up the rock bridge and slammed my fists against the invisible wall. The
wind returned, wrapped around me, and brought soft whispers to my ear. Gradually they got
louder until they were screams.
‘Come to me, Zane’
‘You’re wasting your life!’
‘Yes, let me use it!’
‘No, he’s mine!’ So many voices cried.
I slowly turned and gasped at the sight. Twenty or so lights of all different colors
floated around their respective graves. I stepped off the bridge and cautiously reached out to the
closest one. My fingers phased right through the little yellow orb. The voices were still screaming
at me but one stood out over the rest. The deep voice of a man beckoned me and I couldn’t help
but obey.
‘Come here, Zane. You know that you are wasting your life.’
I stopped and knelt in front of Joseph B. Frosts’ grave. A red orb flared and buzzed
around my head. I stared in awe and it seemed to stare back at me. I couldn’t move and felt
numb as the orb examined me thoroughly. It seemed as though it was about to leave me alone
but instead it turned and charged at my chest. I gasped as I tried to find air but instead found
myself floating. I had no control over myself as I struggled to turn. I gave up when something
stepped in front of me. I tried to scream but I had no mouth for it to come from as I saw my
body looking down at me. He cracked his neck and straightened his jacket as he adjusted to
his new form.
“New body, new voice, and so young.” He looked down at what once were my hands
and smiled. “I like it."
I felt utterly helpless as the wind returned and pushed me around.
“Oh, don’t worry, Zane, you have an eternity to master movement. I’ll take good care of
your body. Have fun being dead.” Joseph waved at me with a smile and left the same way I’d
entered: Over the rock bridge.
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Title:
Life Is Wasted On The Living
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Artist:
xXJim-JamsXx
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Description:
A little story I wrote about a gravestone I saw in a graveyard by my house.
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Date:
10/29/2008
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Tags:
life
wasted
living
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