©2023 Mel Reynes do not re-publish without permission
It was the sixth house we’d seen that day.
When Adam had proposed buying a “fixer-upper.” Stripping it down to its struts, slowly building it up layer by layer, and then renting it out at market rates, it sounded like such a sexy challenge.. We would be restoring a lost place, re-building our relationship brick by brick, and creating enjoined business opportunities. What a fantasy, indeed.
He was currently talking the realtor’s ear off about the potential of the kitchen. I wasn’t interested in the kitchen. I never cooked, Adam did all that or we ordered out.
I walked into the living room and tuned him out. My boots crunched on the fallen plaster like brittle teeth. The wallpaper was dark green with thorned veins running up the pattern. Where it had peeled away, there was black-spotted plaster exposing wooden ribs.
Through the dirt-smeared windows, I could see an overgrown cemetery. There were a few old headstones poking up like worn bone. That hadn’t been in the listing.
A cemetery could be a great way to stand out in the competitive vacation rental market and attract the affluent spooky crowd. If I got some pics, then our assistant Gemma could see if anyone famous was buried out there. It could really increase the value of this property.
I decided to check it out. It was better than listening to kitchen talk.
Stepping out, I immediately wished I’d brought bug spray. The fall was still pretty warm, and a swarm of bugs engulfed me as I walked through the high grass. They picked my exposed skin and swam around my head. Luckily my jeans were tucked into my high boots, no need to worry about ticks. I tried swatting them away but they came right back.
Two large trees framed the cemetery. One was dark and lichen-covered, its leaves were already brown and shriveled. The other was straight, white, and still had its green canopy. The cemetery had no signage or fencing.
The little cemetery was further away than it had seemed and I had to cross the weedy yard to reach the entrance. Overgrown with rocks jutting out between weeds and moss, the path was barely visible. As I entered, the canopy of trees totally obscured the sky and the bugs screamed all around me.
On each side of me, heavy trees pressed against the path. The air smelled like ripe mulch. In between the stones were weeds and pools of soft moss. I walked carefully, we were very far from the nearest hospital. The last thing I needed to do was break a leg and ruin our adventurous weekend.
Despite my care, I tripped on a hidden stone and fell into the clearing. My hands flung out in front of me, catching me before my head hit the rocky ground. A particularly sharp stone found my left hand, cutting across four fingers. God damn it. We’d waste the rest of the day in urgent care, so I quickly pulled tissues out of my bag and wrapped them around my hand. The tissues immediately turned red. The bleeding slowed. I would treat it with the first aid kit once I got back to the car.
Standing up, I could see the whole cemetery, which wasn’t much. There was a large plinth, surrounded by five smaller headstones in different sizes. The large plinth had a type of crown carved into it, but all the text was worn away. There was no fence or wall around the cemetery. Only a solid barrier of weeds, brambles, and trees. I turned around and around, trying to find where I’d come in.
I took a deep breath. The exit had disappeared.
Wait, I told myself, don’t be stupid. Exits don’t just disappear. I steadied my mind with thoughts of Adam, who would notice I was gone and come looking for me soon. I was only a hundred feet from the house, after all. I didn’t need to start seeing things or the realtor would write us both off entirely.
A dark cloud engulfed the sun and the sky turned a deep purple. I zipped up my down vest against a stiff cold breeze & pulled my phone out of my vest pocket, but it was dead. Probably lost its juice struggling to find WIFIin this remote area. We’d have to install a satellite internet system if we bought this place, a sound investment to be sure.
Of course, first we’d pull out all the stones in the path and make this place safe. Lawsuits from clumsy renters could be ghastly.
Might as well do what I could to remedy the situation. Sitting down on a flat rock, I rummaged in my bag for hand sanitizer. It would sting like a bitch, but I should try to clean out the cut if I was going to be here awhile. The tall grass came up to my shoulders. Leaning towards me, the grass clung to my mohair sweater and entwined itself into my ponytail.
Couldn’t find the hand sanitizer but I did find more tissues. I tossed the bloody ones into the grass and wiped at my fingers. The gash gaped bloodlessly across four fingers. The flesh underneath was pink and textured. I flexed and it ached.
Finally stopping after driving and walking around all day, I quickly grew sleepy. As charming as the country was, we really should have picked an easy starter rehab. Something near a cool wine bar. I rested against one of the smaller headstones. The stone was warm from the day and eased my tense muscles.
This cemetery was such a find though, we couldn’t pass this up. Adam would love pretending to garden and hacking a smoother path through the woods. I wondered how much professional contractors would cost to come out here. Maybe we could get by hiring locals.
I closed my eyes for just a moment. The ground here was softer. Not damp, but yielding and warm. The insects had stopped screaming. The deep woodsy smell was intoxicating. I tried to keep an ear out for talking or any sign Adam was looking for me.
I was so close to the house.
A vine draped across my lap. The leaves were soft and grey. I couldn’t remember much about poison ivy, but I was pretty sure it was a darker green than this. I curled it around my fingers and stroked the velvety leaves. Greenery pressed against me from all sides and I sunk further into the pleasant earth. The sturdy stone accepted more of my weight as I reclined.
The sky was still a cold mulberry color, but close to the ground, it was surprisingly balmy. Moss-covered tones cradled me. The pressure was deep and pleasant. More foliage draped over my lap and intimately wove around my arms. My strained muscles eased into the formless earth.
My head gently slid off the tombstone. The earth smelled like burnt leaves and spiced fruits. With my ear to the earth, I could hear a low rumble. The sound of shifting rocks, earth, and something else, grew louder as I sank into the ground. The stones shifted in order to welcome my body.
I pulled my arms into me, crushing fragrant herbs and releasing more of their smell. My left arm was totally enveloped by the earth. Spreading from the wound, heat flushed throughout my body. Every beat from the cut sank me deeper and deeper. Firm land arched to cup my neck and back. I breathed in deeply and took ageless earth into myself. I breathed out and expelled my fever of worries, tension, and duties.
Delicate bony hands reached up to meet me. They wrapped lightly around my hand, digging between the folds of my wound. With deft care, they pulled my cut open and spun my flesh away. Painlessly they swiftly cleaned my hand. Other hands joined from within the earth, gently probing at my clothing and picking away excess. Their soft bones were warm and held me as they worked. My body throbbed with the sounds in the earth.
My strained muscles were peeled off in paper-thin sheets. With each layer removed, the weight I carried lightened and I bobbed in the dark earth. Each of my laminations was carefully folded before being put away. I unfurled and the warmth spread within me.
Each drop of cold blood purled off and my body gracefull slid through the soil. With no less care, each of my organs were dislodged with care and devotion. The fine, white hands used sharp fingertips to sever connections, cords, and anchors. My innards disappeared deeper beneath me.
As the hands ran through my long flaxen hair, they plucked and joined strand to strand. Every yellow summer’s day was neatly wound up and taken into the loam. My hair flashed harshly but I couldn’t shield my lidless eyes.
My teeth ached to be cleared and my tongue sluggishly pressed against my skull. Tenderly the hands parted my teeth and cleaned them of remaining sinew. For my tongue, they unraveled it from deep in my throat. I breathed in the rich earth and pulled it further into myself. My chest expanded.
Lovingly the skeletal hands cupped my eyes and took them from my cleaned head. I followed their journey away, seeing myself through their delicate jelly. I was radiant alabaster, drifting in a wreath of my new family. I followed their journey until they winked out.
Finally, the hands tugged at my back. Kindly, they coaxed my system of nerves out from its column, working up from my pelvis and to my head. Each thread was plucked up and braided. When they got to my head, there was a small tug and then the grey matter in my head eagerly unspooled.
I could, finally, fully breath in, filling myself with glowing darkness. I pulsed with it and of it. I was beautifully empty and ready.