I decided to take a
It was after nine at night and
Blake and his dad/mom’s hot boss had already left. I
don’t know what made me walk out onto the chilly streets. I
Maybe it was
something inside of me.
I walked from
memory because I had gone to this place so many times.
Then a right. Stop
at the corner because cars come rushing down that street so fast
they aren’t even watching out for pedestrians.
The gates to the
cemetery looked rusted and untouched. I pushed lightly. They
squeaked a little but otherwise gave way. I looked around. There
weren’t any lights so I pulled out my cell phone and used
it to guide me.
need to look at the names on the tombstones. I wouldn’t get
Then I stopped in
my tracks. There they were.
I sighed and
noticed how shaky my breathing was. I glanced to the right and
read the next tombstone.
I licked my lips
and tasted salt. My cheeks were wet with tears before I realized
I was crying. I kneeled down, covered my mouth with my hand, and
sobbed. Not because my dad was gone, but because everyone would
always remember him as some crazy drunk. No one would ever think
of him as my fourth grade inner-mural soccer coach, or the dad
that brought in my science project when I forgot it, or how every
Sunday he and I would sit in front of the TV for hours and watch
He would never be
that again. And it was sad.
I bolted upright
and my eyes flashed open when I heard the noise. Just behind me a
stick cracked and then I heard the shuffling of feet. I spun, my
heart pounding in my chest. My vision was still blurry but I
could make out a dark figure moving away from me along the tree
I stood and
didn’t hesitate to race after them.
Wait. What was I
doing?! I was running after a creeper watching me cry
over my father’ s grave?
hell was I thinking.
I still ran
though, as fast as I could, despite my mind telling otherwise. I
followed them into the trees that lined the cemetery. Branches
cut my face and hands, I think there was a scratch on the left
side of my cheek that was bleeding.
Then I stopped
because I couldn’t hear another set of footsteps mirroring
I had lost
And I was
one dreams of being almost remembered. But no one dreams of being
remembered as someone they’re not.