Their Undying Affections

[Sheah]

Her undying gaze beheld the site of the progression.

They moved unsurely but as a single black mass; a bobbing, wounded creature that rolled over the grass. With heads bowed and collars upturned to the rain, they reached the grave with coffin in tow, three men on each side of the box for support, and at a single glance, she knew who they would have been. Brothers, a lover, a father, friends – she had seen it all before. It was their honour to carry their loved one to her final resting place, as they knew it was the last time they could physically say goodbye. But this wasn’t new, it was just as sad, and she wept for them, even though they’d never know.

The mass stopped at the edge of the grave and dispersed around the hole, in order to get a proper view of the scene as the priest called for them to take their seats, while the coffin-bearers gently placed the box on the green mat – a sickly bright swath of colour that violently contrasted with the gloom of the day. The people took their places in the cold and the wet, and the robed man gathered his papers in preparation for the final speech, his gangly body now stationed behind a makeshift podium. She watched them all from a distance, but something pulled at her non-existent heart, and it gradually reeled her in, gaining more and more of her attention as the seconds mulled over into minutes. She felt colder than usual, as if the rain had touched her translucent skin, and the kiss of the cold left her feeling emptier than before. The ghost often came here, to the cemetery, to be closer to those of her own kind. The living held no similarities to her; they were alive, she was not. It was a sanctuary of sorts, and each day a new grave was dug, and the lost soul carried on alone regardless. Watching, waiting.

But today was different. She caught site of one of them, and her attention centred on him. She swayed, waiting for the priest’s words to fill the space as she tracked him out of the corner of her eye.