Edward Graves

The ticking of the clock drives me insane as I wait in the lawyers office. My mom passed and it’s time to hear the will. I’m sitting across from my two idiot, twin cousins. Tim and Tom are just a few months younger than me, but we were never friends. On either side of them are their parents my aunt Kat and her husband Mark. All four are short and round. Kat has always hated herself and has done much to look different, except exercise and diet. Her hair is dyed from black to blonde, but she’s not consistent enough to keep her dark roots hidden. Her skin is spray tanned and I think her lips have been done since I saw her last. Next to Kat is my uncle Edwin. Looking at he and I is like looking through time. I used a photo from his high school days as my senior photo and no one, except he and my mom, noticed. He’s tall, thin, and pale with dark hair. His is groomed while mine is a bit shabby. We are both wearing all black, as usual.

My uncle’s name being Edwin and mine being Edward made family gatherings confusing for my idiot aunt and cousins. Two syllable names are too hard. Hence, Tim and Tom. Therefore, Uncle Edwin became Win and I Word. My cousins have grown increasingly entertained with this over the years.

Even now they sit across from me like toys stuck on repeat. “Word up” and “Word that” “Word to you” etc... spew from them in between their pig-like, childish snorts. The only thing I hear over them is the ticking of the clock despite the busy hospital hallway we are in. Then suddenly the ticking is replaced by the horrible beeping of a heart monitor crashing. I leap from my seat and rush into the hospital room.

There before my eyes in the hospital bed is my mother. Her eyes are rolled into the back of her head. Her skin is white like a ghost and she is not breathing. I scream a silent scream for help as I rush into the room. I close my eyes and begin chest compressions. With the first pump I sit up in my bed. I am flush and coming to terms with the fact that was a dream. My alarm extends the beeping of the heart monitor until I dismiss it with one eye open.

Today’s not even the will reading. Today’s the funeral. It is not easy to get myself going let alone get ready for this day, but I drag myself to the shower and through my morning routines. My aunt and her family should have landed by now. Uncle Edwin still lives in town so he offered to pick them up and bring them back to his house to get ready.

I drive mom’s car to the funeral home and am the first to arrive. The director escorts me in and offers coffee. I make my way to the casket.

“Good morning.” I say to a mostly empty room. My mind plays back the sound of her soft voice “Same to you.” I sit and sip my coffee. I stand when my uncle enters the room with my aunt and her family close behind. Hugs ensue with my uncle and aunt. As she hugs me, she makes a comment about how skinny I am. Tears are shed by the three of us, but she is quick to wipe hers away. Her husband pats me on the back with a solemn nod. I exchange a nod with each of my cousins. My aunt, uncle, and I line up near the casket as mourners begin to arrive.

The funeral passes. It is a blur of shaking hands with relatives and strangers. Mom had a lot of friends. She was always there for everyone and now they are here for her. Death is hard to be around for most people. Dying is even harder. That is why it was just Edwin and I at the hospital with her. We both rushed there when we got the call.

Mom had an accident at work. Her spine was damaged dangerously close to her brain. She was conscious, but barely. With surgery she had a small chance to live, without surgery she would be gone in hours. She decided on surgery. We both knew that was the last time we’d talk. Edwin sat with me in the waiting room. Kat waited at home for his call. She didn’t want to believe it then and barely believes it now, I think.

After the burial Edwin convinces me to come to lunch. We all go to the local eatery. It's not a formal place so I feel awkward being overdressed. My aunt and uncles talk as we dine. My cousins are doing just what they were doing in my dream and that reminds me... yup, Kat’s lips are all puffy. Dark roots are there too. Weird. Mark is sure to pick up the bill when it comes. He’s an executive for a fast-food chain. Apparently, he even gets a discount here. I thought this place was local, but nothing is anymore, I guess.

I head home alone after lunch despite my uncle’s attempts to invite me over. I don’t need or want to reminisce with them. After my aunt’s back home Edwin and I can catch up, but for now I’ll be steering clear of his place. I go home to sleep until sundown. Life is better at night. So is my art. I’m a photographer by night and a developer by day. I can use digital cameras, but I still feel the thrill of the negative coming to life in the darkroom. Plus, it makes a good excuse to stay out of the sun.

I grab my camera and my bag and make my way to the cemetery. I stride through the grounds seeing them through the lens of my camera. I capture the tombstones, the misty air, and the full moon as it beams down upon me. I arrive at my mother’s plot. The smell of fresh earth hangs in the air. Perched atop her tombstone is an owl, small and white with rough looking grey plumage. I capture this moment. Then the bird soars over my head and across the moon. I capture this moment, as well. I sit and talk with my mother for a few hours, capturing the tombstone each time it’s her turn to speak. All the while, I’m staring at the words Edwin and I chose.

Penelope Graves

Life is your garden to tend

Words she used to say when someone faced adversity. She knew that the only way to solve your problems was to do something. I think she’d be happy I’m out with my camera. Even if I’m in a cemetery. I think she’d still be proud because at least I’m doing something. That thought brings me to tears. Time to go.

My camera gets the rest of the night off. I grab fast-food on the way home. Being around Mark really made me want a number three. I settle in for the night watching black and white horror movies on the couch.

The sound of water echoes against stone walls around me. It is a slow maddening drip somewhere in the distance. The smell of earth and mildew fill my nostrils as I head toward the sound of a stream and away from the drip. Light ahead flickers, guiding my way down the slippery slopes as I go further and further inward.

The cave widens and I see the source of the light. It is a torch mounted to the wall. On the floor beneath the torch is a pile of bones with three large skulls like those of wolves, but bigger. There is an opening filled with the most intense darkness. I reach up and grab the torch, but as I pull it down from its mount I am blinded by its light.

I rub my eyes and realize it is the morning sun here to wake me. The tv has long since turned itself off. I need to get ready for the will reading. For real this time, I hope. A cold shower wakes me up fast. I grab a toaster pastry, but skip the toaster as I rush out the front door and into the car. The lawyer’s office isn’t far so I have time to grab a coffee on the way.

When I get into the building my aunt and uncle are seated in the waiting room. My uncle looks like he’s barely slept. His house has two bedrooms and I’m guessing he got the couch. My aunt is wearing white and has a white flower in her hair. She’s obviously been to the salon since the funeral. The lawyer invites us into his office.

He’s an old man, a shadow of the man he once was. He’s scrawny and wrinkly. He walks hunched over relying heavily on his cane. The cane is very natural in appearance, but with a rubber foot. He speaks slowly and barely above a whisper. It forces us to the edge of our seats as we hang on for the next word or his last breath.

To my aunt she leaves family jewelry that has been passed down from mother to mother for many generations. Edwin is left a collection of vintage books that were my grandfather’s. The lawyer had already had me arrange these things and drop them off to him here. He and I had agreed it would be easiest this way. When all is said and done, I get the rest. My mother pointed out in our last conversation how blessed we are that I am old enough now to live on my own. Blessed too that uncle Edwin is still so nearby.

My aunt and uncle drag me to lunch again. I narrowly avoid engaging in actual small talk with Kat until she gives up and becomes uncle Edwin’s problem. Kat wants to see the house. I tell her I’ve got to go develop my photos, but I don’t mention my darkroom in the basement. I even turn away from home out of the parking lot to add to my story.

The photos come out great. The moonlight highlights the tombs. The fresh soil of mom’s grave somehow shows an unfathomable depth. I feel like I can see through it into the afterlife. No owl, though. The photos are all there, but no owl. Weird. I think on this as I have my microwaved dinner in front of the tv.

I’m carrying a torch. It is dark as if I’m underground. Floating before me is a dilapidated ship. It smells of rotting wood and worse. There is a rope hanging down to me, I climb it. I am alone onboard. For some reason I am compelled to take the helm. Wind fills the sails. The ship is suddenly hurled forward. It is not turbulent, but it is fast. It reminds me of that scene on the chocolate river with the crazy rhyme. The ship crashes ashore and I am propelled forward crash landing in a heap onto cold, damp earth.

I gather myself and stand. Before me is a giant white throne. It is made of bones and comes to a high, sharp point. I climb the bones like the rungs of a ladder. My climb takes me to a giant seat. In it rests a giant black, metal helm with a giant eye engraved in the forehead. My feet sway as I take a seat. Just then the same little owl from my mother’s grave perches on the arm of the throne. I reach over to stroke its feathers. It lets out a coo that sends my mind spiraling back home.

Perched atop the tv is the owl. Something strange is going on...