Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  62 / 168 Next Page
Basic version Information
Show Menu
Previous Page 62 / 168 Next Page
Page Background



Carissa Lau

The wind whistled over the wrecked concrete path, the street grey

and deserted as usual. crows howled on tall, strangled branches as the

storm swept through the cemetery. Broken weatherboard houses

creaked as the gust brushed through the tattered windows. Dying

clouds hung limply, rumbling and growling. The first drop of crystal

glass ice fell, ricocheting into trillions of pieces.

At the end of the wrinkled gravel path sat a miserable house, tears

streaked from its glassy eyes as the rain poured down. The tear stains

remained as a shrill cry ran throughout the town. Footsteps splashed

in the icy puddles, the sound quickly dispersed into a million

butterflies, the soft flapping of wings drifted and died away.

No one lived in Verac Manor, except a plump caretaker. White,

coarse bristles stood out from his shiny, scratched marble head.

Buttons bulged from his worn, cotton, striped shirt and his spiky,

barbed coat waved in the wind.

The days seemed endless, never ending, but the caretaker never

complained. Without Courtney, he was lost, living for no reason. They

were meant to be together for eternity, until the angels took her and

she rose to heaven, fluffy white candy floss scattered the floor. Angels

with long, pale, straight hair in flowing, white dresses flew, twirling

and singing as soft as a bird’s tune on a summer morning.

The day streaked on like water colours on a white canvas. The

colours danced around the page, blurry. Blotches of colour scattered

across the caretaker’s eyes: musky greys, ocean blues and a patch of

midnight black, where the cataract was clouding, like maggots in a

dead corpse.

The gate groaned and swung open revealing 12 by 6, neat rows of

emerald-green moss-covered graves.

The cemetery had been pretty years ago; white carnations with

cherry-blossom pink trimmings used to decorate the paths, dark,

olive-green ferns lined the rotunda and grass covered the rest of the


Photos of the past illuminated each grave, as if the people were still

alive. Dim lights lit the exterior of the brick mausoleum, vines hung

like dead spiders’ limbs and black cats prowled among the sleeping.

The caretaker tried his best to maintain the cemetery, but over

the decade, the plants had overgrown and the mausoleum was no

longer visible. The flowers had wilted and died while the grass had

melted and disappeared, leaving clumped soil.