Sta.sh
A Dream of Death
by ~inpenguinI found myself traveling a path through a graveyard.
It was an older cemetery, one where the stones stood upright, and were grey monuments to a life that once had been. Some of them were new with deep inscriptions, others worn and impossible to read, the stones reflecting the passing of a life from memories.
As I traveled on this path, I saw a freshly dug grave to the side. There was a mound of dirt, and a hole opened black and deep. There were workers, just finishing the job of excavating and propping up the stone in place. No casket was present, no funereal group, just the workers.
For some reason I was fascinated by the scene. As I watched, a gentleman came out, and joined the workers. He seemed embarrassed, almost as if he was not sure what to do. The path in the meantime had carried me past the excavation, and I scrambled, to get off so that I could observe. It was hard to remove myself from the flow, for the path seemed to cling to me as quicksand. But I finally extricated myself and stood next to the grave.
The embarrassed gentleman looked at me with an almost apologetic look, and settled on opening a tool box he had with him. He searched within, shuffling various instruments around, and eventually pulled out a light chisel and mallet of sorts. He once again turned to me, as if waiting, and as I said nothing, he shrugged and began work on the headstone.
He chiseled an inscription, slowly, but deliberately, and the letters appeared to shine, almost with a light of their own. The epitaph appeared under his skilled hand as I watched from the other side of the dark grave.
When it came time to chisel the name on the stone, the gentleman stopped once again, agitated almost, and looked at the workers (who ignored him). After one final disturbed look to me, he then turned and began chiseling the name. As the letters formed, I leaned closer to see the name. Curiosity had grasped me and compelled me to read the name as it appeared.
As he completed the name, the gentleman turned once again to me with a look of satisfaction. As I leaned close and read my own name on the headstone, I slipped, and fell in to the dark pit that lay before me.
As I descended in to the dark pit, falling, never reaching the bottom, I turned and looked above to see the workers, the gentleman, and the headstone with my name glowing in gold. A happiness and peace overcame me as sunlight pours on to a tropical beach. The grave embraced me, and as I sank lower down, I closed my eyes and accepted the grave's enveloping sweetness.
i just happened to read this post. It is a wonderful write up. Though the reason fo rme to visit this particular post is totally different. I happened to come across a blog which has copied this post claiming to be thier own work.
i hope you have a copyright for it.
Regards,
A Well wisher.
p.s. - the link - [link]
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hope u will understand......
a well wisher..
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"Curiosity had grasped my and I felt I needed to read the name as it appeared."
Something might be missing here after the "my" or maybe it ought to be "me" instead.
Also, I would tweak the sentence a little to give it a bit more weight... Curiosity had grasped me and compelled me to read the name as it appeared is what I would write, but of course, it's just a difference in style. Of course, you didn't ask for advanced critique and I'm sorry if I'm overstepping. I just thought I'd mention it.
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