Grave thoughts

Grave Thoughts

A Short Story by Cliff Hope

Talk about digging up the past, this is what I am doing. Spade in hand. Graveyard and pile of soil.

All my life, I've been wary of graveyards. I suppose it began when they buried my Nana. I'm not sure what age I was, but I was at her funeral. Everyone stood around in black clothes, gazing into the hole where the coffin was being lowered. Rain was dropping on the men's bare heads when the vicar moved too near to the edge of the grave as he said the blessing. His foot slipped, and he and the coffin dropped to the bottom of the grave. The look of shock on the people's faces, the groans, then the scramble as a couple of the mourners tried to pull the vicar up from the grave. Mother gasping, a couple of people giggled at the back before their faces became stern. I was petrified and shouted, “The vicars stood on my Nana.”

The vicar stood with mud across his face, hands, and now not muddied surplus, trying to act dignified and apologising to anyone and everyone. In my memory, I can see us all streaming away to the cars with shaking heads and angry words. The lone vicar stood at the head of the grave with what I thought were tears flowing down his face. But maybe it was just the rain.

Now I'm digging up Mum. She’s been buried with the keys to the safe and the passwords for the online accounts worth a million pounds. The vicar said they can't open the grave, and the court says I must get access by other means. So, what can I do? This is my other means.

How do grave diggers do it? Do they use machines nowadays? So much work and hardly any soil moved. At this rate, I’ll still be here when it gets light in the morning. Spade in, dig, throw, dig, throw, this is hell on earth.

Could I have persuaded any of my mates to help? No! Who in their right mind would even think of it or want to dig up a grave? Only an idiot like me, desperate for money. But I will be able to pay off my debts, buy a house, and have spare money to live on.

Why are places like this so depressing? The wind blowing past the gravestones makes that wailing sound. That bloody owl that keeps hooting, foxes barking, who said “as quiet as a grave”? The lantern I have brought isn’t much good, just about illuminates what I’m doing, but it’s better than an arch light advertising what’s going on. I’m sure the police would enjoy a trip out to this bloody graveyard!

Why do I keep looking around? Who is going to wander through this place at one o’clock in the morning? Go on, James, admit to yourself you're scared, you know you are. Why did you come to the dead end of the town? That’s not even funny, James, get on with your work.

‘Oye. What are you doing?’

‘What the hell? Is it a ghost, a copper? Where is it? Oh god, it’s there. Wait, it’s a man, looks pretty rough to me.

‘I said what you are doing. Grave robber, are you?’

‘No-no, I’m visiting my mother.’

‘Bit bloody late, isn’t it? If she’s here, she’s dead. Anyway, you should bring flowers, not a shovel, to visit her.’

‘What can I say? I just needed to see her.’

‘It won’t be so nice after being in there. How long has she been down there?’

‘A couple of weeks.’

‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you. Like I said, not so nice in a grave, and I should know, I sleep here most nights. Nine years now. Seen it all, me. Leave it to those that know how to do it.’

‘I can't. There's something buried with her I desperately need.’

‘I wouldn’t bother. It’ll be messy in there and the smell.’

‘You won’t say anything, will you?’

‘None of my business.’

‘Err, you couldn’t help me? I mean, it's such hard work, I hadn’t realised.’

‘None of my business is what I said and what I mean. You want it, you get it. But I wouldn’t bother if I were you.’

‘I can’t stand chatting, please leave, and I can get on.’

‘I’m going, but don’t wake up Eric.’

‘Eric? Another chap who beds down here?’

‘Well, not exactly. But if you do wake him, be polite, or you’ll regret it.’

‘Thanks, I’ll remember that.’

This is all so weird, strange bloke. Anyway, need to get on. Dig, throw, dig, throw.

‘Hey, what you doing, man?’

What, another tramp? Oh, he did say, what was it, Eric could wake up. Looking around, he saw a head sticking out of the ground. He did a double-take as he realised that he could almost see through the head. Fear shot through his body.

‘I said, What you doing, man?’

‘Digging up my mother.’

‘Do you realise that’s against the law?’

‘Yes. Are you Eric?’

‘Yes, man, how do you know?’

‘A rough sleeper told me.’

‘Well, he told you to be quiet.’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘So why don’t you take notice of him?’

‘Err, are you a ghost?’

‘Well, man, I’m not a crazy coot digging up a grave in the middle of the night.’

‘I need to get in my mother’s grave.’

‘You after her money?’

‘Sort of, they buried her passwords with her.’

‘You think she may not have wanted you to have them?’

‘Oh, I’m sure she wanted me to benefit from her estate.’

‘Hump, I’ll go and ask her.’

‘Ask her?’ The head disappeared.

I’m hallucinating, or I’m going mad. This idea is not so good. I should go before I go completely crazy.

Just then, the head reappears out of the ground. John, you can’t take this shit. You need to run.

‘Hey man, Doris says that the passwords and key are hidden in the garage in one of her photograph albums; she can’t remember which one.’

‘Doris! Mum. How? She’s dead.’

‘Only to you, man. She seems a nice woman, quite chatty.’

‘But that’s impossible.’

‘Not round here, man. We all chat until we go on the journey.’

‘Journey?’

‘Yes, we all go eventually. Don’t know when and don’t know where, but we go.’

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Well, just go and look and stop disturbing us all.’

‘Disturbing you all? There’s more of you?’

‘Just go, man, there’s a police car coming to investigate the light.’

‘How do you know? Oh, never mind.’

Dropping the spade and taking a last look at the head, then running for the exit of the graveyard. He saw the flashing blue light and ducked behind a grave. His heart beating fast. Then crept away, climbing over the wall furthest away from the police car.

I’m never doing that again, he thought, even for all the money in the world.