Grave Road
A
vast green field stretched out over miles of area. In what seemed like
the south part of the field, a young woman was standing there singing.
It was a familiar song, the American anthem. She emphasized on the notes
rather than the words. The words were changed somehow.
I walked
back along the grassy field. Eventually I came upon a small dirt road
that lead to a series of houses, or to another part of the perimeter
that lead to a town. Off to my right stood a house. There were no ill
vibes about it, just that it seemed to be covered in night and its white
edges outlined the frame as it stood alone and quiet. The fence that
was built around the large hill-like front yard looked as though it had
frost, although it was very warm outside.
I turned away and
continued south. There in the middle of the dirt road appeared to be a
grave. An old man already in it, half buried. Only his head could be
seen. He was face up and his body was under the soil so I couldn't tell
if he had fallen through or was laid in his grave that way on purpose.
It did seem as if he had been caught in an avalanche of earth and it
buried him alive.
Only
a portion of his face could be seen. His left eye edging towards the
dirt. His swollen, deathly face showed his eyes to be horribly swollen
and bugging out a bit. I saw that he was still alive. But barely. I
walked up to him as other people began to rush up to see what had
happened. Some people kept their distance. I began to clear away the
dirt and soil from around the eye area, jaw and mouth, thinking he would
breathe better but something told me not to even touch that thing.
I
backed away as some other people ran up to him in an attempt to save
him. I felt outwardly that it was a foul thing, buried there like that
for a reason. Inwardly I felt no connection to whoever it was. No
recall, no emotion whatsoever. In the sight of death I saw nothing. No
ill on my part to have been in any way affected by this one way or the
other. I didn't know who it was, and I didn't see or have any knowledge
of what had happened but I felt that it was just. It neither bothered,
upset, or pleased me.
I walked a few paces away, then turned to
look again upon this buried man. For what seemed only a moment, I knew
he was already dead. The decaying color of his features and stone cold
bony face revealed that he had been dead for quite some time. He had no
soul even in life. I thought, at most it was odd, even vaguely
unnerving, that I would see the finality of it all.
The other
folk that looked on the face more closely to examine the strange
illusion I had just witnessed, tricking them into thinking he was still
alive, finally declared in mingled voices that he was indeed dead. The
corpse's tongue began to slip out of the mouth in an oozing,
rolling-like pattern. It was a black, leathery thin texture, but it was
wide and kept rolling out as if it had been rolled up inside his throat
in massive layers.
At last death comes to one whose evil
deception is shown on his face, and whose tongue was endless with lies.
Graphic and yet benign, as it was. No one will mourn such an evil
monster.
February 25, 2000
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