By Juniper Elder

Fiction

I’ve seen it all from my bed of stone. 

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I’ve seen people shatter mere feet from where I lay. I’ve heard their pleas and cries. The sound rips from their chest like the scream of a hurricane, echoing deep into the night. I’ve seen so many faces that they blur together, morphing into an identical shadow of grief. Moss grows over headstones, erasing names that were once spoken with love. Every person that enters here has no peace. There is no peace in grief and isolation. 

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But I’m waiting. 

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The stone beneath me radiates with gentle warmth, absorbed from the heat of the day. The wind carries an autumn chill, rustling orange leaves that cling to the bare branches. Colours of candlelight dusk tint the sky, the blanket of night being slowly dragged over. I shut my eyes, rolling onto my back. It’s not peaceful. Peace is not a word to describe this place. But it’s quiet. Lifeless. 

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~ 

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“You see that, boy?” He grinned. He pointed towards the horizon, silver hair falling over his shining eyes. “That’s a mighty fine sunset if I ever saw one. Wow, look at those colours.” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. 

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“You say that about every sunset, Dad.” She rolled her eyes, but there was the touch of a smile on her lips. 

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“It doesn’t make it any less true, Missy. Don’t make it any less true.” 

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~ 

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The howls of the wind tear through the night, scattering browned leaves and wilted petals. The sun has vanished beneath the horizon, and not even the stars decorate the sky. Clouds float over, dimming the glow of a half-moon. My chest aches and my head feels heavy. There is no hope for comfort tonight. It is cold. I am alone. 

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The silence of the graveyard is broken by the crunching of gravel and leaves underfoot. It’s not uncommon for mourners to visit in the night. Some only grieve when there’s no one to see them cry. I’m here, of course. But they can’t see me. None of them can. 

I watch as they walk, fingers intertwined. They’re faceless voids, carrying flowers against their chests. A small teddy bear dangling from their shaking hand. 

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~

“Hey Dad, look what I found.” She called, running down the stairs. I perked up, my tail thumping against the wooden floor. She was holding a quilted bear with colourful stitching, holding it out for him to see. 

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He stared, taking it with a laugh, “Why, it’s Bobo! God, I remember how much you used to love this thing.” His wrinkled fingers stroked the smooth, faded fabric. “I remember when your mother was stitchin’ him up for you. You were only small.” 

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She smiled, nodding, taking the bear as he put an arm over her shoulders, “I miss her.” She whispered, wiping the dust off the bear's eyes. 

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“I know. I miss her too.” 

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~

I turn to the toy that leans against the headstone. One of his ears hangs from his head, the colourful patches that gave him life now faded and moulding. The pink button eyes stare with love as I nuzzle into him, seeking comfort in his smell. 

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Not even Bobo’s damp scent blocks out the stench of grief as it wafts over. The couple kneels at a grave only a few metres away, the ground beneath them still dirt. The grave is covered in flowers and pictures, a reminder of the life lost. But in a few days, the flowers will start wilting in the cold. The rain won’t show mercy to the paper notes and photos left behind. All that will be there in a few years is the headstone, moss covering yet another name in this graveyard. The weight in my chest grows as the sobbing starts. It starts as a catch of breath among the tears. But grief digs in claws, turning small hiccups into sobbing raw with loss. I'm dragged down with every step as I walk over, trying to rest a paw on their trembling shoulder. 

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Please, don’t cry, I whine. The sound doesn't reach them as they grieve, tears dampening the ground. One of them inhales sharply, voice shaking and broken as they beg to the night, “Give him back. Give us back our baby boy.” 

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Cameron Everett 

“If love could have saved you, 

you would have lived forever” 

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The words are engraved into a plaque, hidden beneath the masses of flowers. A statue stands in place of a headstone, two featureless figures holding a child in their arms.

~ 

He was pacing the room, hand trembling as he rang the number again. I was lying on the couch, unable to sleep. He was anxious. It was late. He was usually asleep by now. But Missy wasn’t home. 

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“Missy? Missy, come on, pick up…” he mumbled, glancing at the clock again. The light in his eyes was dimmed. A vehicle rumbled in response as I barked and rushed to the door. “Missy? Oh, thank god.” He laughed in relief, walking to the door. A harsh mix of scents from the other side burned my nose. It wasn’t Missy. 

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Colour drained from the house as red and blue flooded through the door. He froze at the sight of the policewoman. I growled at the creature standing behind her. Our first meeting. 

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“There’s been an accident.” 

~ 

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The night was growing colder, but their tears showed no sign of stopping. The breath of the wind was bitter, tearing petals from the flowers. Even I’m desperate, trying to paw at their shadowed clothing. You need to rest, I think desperately, glancing at the moon in the sky. It had crawled its way from one horizon to another. 

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"We should go," One says softly. His voice is hoarse, fragile with emotion. The other nods, shadowy strands of hair falling across her face. She reaches to place the bear among the flowers, hesitating before withdrawing her hand, tightening her grip. They both slowly stand from the ground, falling into an embrace. 

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"Momma?" I whip my head around to see a young boy, standing a few feet away. His skin is translucent, emitting a ghostly glow. The jumper he's wearing is vibrantly striped. His soft brown eyes flicker in surprise as he sees me, but quickly turns to the sobbing couple. Cameron. He isn't a hollow void of grief like them. He's a soul. He can see me! 

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“I want him back,” His mother sobs, her voice cracking. 

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“I know,” his father whispers back. He begins to guide her towards the exit, the shadows surrounding them fading with every step. I can see the burden they carry shrinking as they near the gate, their faces relaxing with a sense of closure. Peace. 

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“Wait!” Cameron cries, reaching out a small hand after them. They keep walking. Cameron stares helplessly, tears rolling down his pale face as they get in their car. 

No, wait, hold on! It’s ok! I think, licking the tears off of his face. His eyes widen and crying ceases, a look of surprise in his eyes. I run back and grab Bobo in my teeth, his eyes never leaving me. I place Bobo on the grass and nudge it towards him. His gaze flickers, thinking as he stares. When he bends over to pick it up, his fingers pass through, leaving Bobo untouched. I sit down and watch, my tail wagging in excitement. I have a friend. 

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He looks at me before trying again. This time, he grasps Bobo’s limp body, smiling with baby teeth as he hugs the bear tightly. “Teddy.” He murmurs lovingly. 

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~ 

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His sobs echoed through the empty house, body shaking as he hugged the bear to his chest. He rocked himself on the couch, tears dripping onto my head. I nuzzled into him, to get his attention. Something had happened to Missy. 

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“My girl,” he wept. His voice strained like he was hurting. The colour had drained from him and the house, now a blur of grey. His eyes were shiny, but broken.“My little girl. My sweet little girl.” 

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~

My head rests in Cameron's lap, listening to him mumble as he plays with Bobo. We're sitting on my bed of stone as I keep my eyes half open, feeling as Bobo dances on my head and Cameron sings quietly. Bobo can only keep him distracted for so long. He’s bound to start crying for his parents. But it’s ok. I’ll look after him. 

I haven’t met many souls. Grim usually takes them away before I can. They’re drained of colour and missing pieces, carrying burdens they've never let go. I’ve seen them grieve with their families, repeating broken apologies and begging to be seen. They don't know what to do with themselves when their families leave. They can't follow, so they wander, lost. Abandoned. Sometimes I follow them. Sometimes they sit with me. They tell me their names, about their families. Some remember how they died, others can’t accept it. I lift my head and lick Cameron's face, earning a young laugh. He’s too young to know death. 

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Cameron shivers against the biting wind. His shoulders slump, rubbing his eyes. It’s ok, I’ll keep you warm, I want to tell him, nudging him to lie down. I know sleeping atop a grave isn’t comfortable, but it’s mine. I feel safe on my bed of stone. 

He shivers in his sleep, tightening his hold on the bear. I can’t watch him forever. Grim will come for him; he doesn’t like leaving souls behind. Still, I’ll look after him. He’s bright and colourful. He isn’t sad like the others. He smiles and laughs. It’s nice hearing someone laugh again. It’s nice not being alone. 

~

“Hey boy, wanna go for a drive?” 

The words made me scramble to my feet, jumping on him in excitement. It’s been months since we’ve gone out. The house is quiet now. He only cries or sleeps, sometimes watching me play outside. I run to the door, my tongue hanging from my mouth. He laughed, eyes wrinkling at the corners as he picked Bobo up off the couch, examining him with a sad smile. “Let’s go visit Missy.” 

My steps felt light as we left, sun shining on my fur. He smiled, swinging the car door open, “Come on boy, in you get!” I ran and jumped onto the seat, wagging my tail and panting. The car smelt strange. Missy’s car smelt of dust and food. 

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The car rumbled to life and I stuck my head out, wind blowing through my fur and whipping around me as we drove. People walked on the footpath, laughing in the sun. It was a good day. The car pulled to a stop. The air was colder than before. A large building towered over us. I’d seen it before, but I’d never been inside. He called it a church. 

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“Come on!” He called, walking past the building. I ran to catch up, looking around. There's large slabs of stone sticking out from the ground, some covered in flowers. As I ran to sniff one, he called out behind me, “Watch the headstones.” 

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He stopped in the far back corner, underneath a large, blooming tree. The headstone he stood in front of is bare, except for an already dead bouquet of flowers. 

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​

Missy Harrett 

“Dearly loved daughter, 

A life stolen too soon” 

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He kneeled, placing Bobo against the headstone as I sat next to him. His gaze was locked onto the carved inscription. His eyes began to glisten as he inhaled sharply, "I can't do this." His voice cracking under the pressure of emotion. 

Don't cry, I whine, licking his face. He turned to me, the same sad smile on his lips as he hugged me, running a hand through my fur. 

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"You're a good dog, aren't you, Oakley?" He whispered. I licked the tears off his cheek, making him laugh. He took a deep breath as he let go, standing to his feet. 

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“Alright boy, sit.” He pointed to the slab of concrete, covering the dig site. As I sat, he scratched my head, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Stay. I’ll be back.” He took a step away, tears in his eyes, “I’ll be back. Just wait with Missy.” 

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“I’ll be back.” 

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And then he was gone. 

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~

The colours of a nearing sunrise tint the edges of the sky. The grass is covered with dew, a bitter chill travelling through the graveyard. Cameron is still curled up, clutching Bobo. Ringing breaks the silence as the church bell begins to swing. A dark hooded figure appears at the end of the path, his eyes meeting mine. He’s here. 

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With each step I take, my heart becomes heavier, the ache in my chest growing. Colours melt away and gravel digs into the pads of my feet. Still, I walk forward, till I’m sitting right in front of Death himself. 

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Do you have to take him? I tilt my head, staring up at him. I can almost hear the loneliness creeping back once more. 

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“You know you can come with us.” His voice rumbles like distant thunder, reaching out a bony hand to scratch my ear, “Nothing is keeping you here.” 

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I’m waiting. 

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“Waiting for him to come back?” He asks, a hint of doubt in his voice. I pause, thinking about the answer. 

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No, not him. The left behind ones. I turn my head to glance back at Cameron now. He’s standing and watching us, clutching Bobo to his chest. I don't want them to feel alone. 

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“Well, when you’re ready.” He stands, brushing himself off. Beneath the shadows of his hood, I catch a glimpse of a smile. “I’ll be waiting.” 

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He lifts his eyes to the young boy, standing at the back of the graveyard. Cameron’s grip tightened on Bobo. Raising a hand, Grim bends one finger, gesturing to come closer. And after a moment, he listens, slowly making his way down the path. 

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Grim crouches down to Cameron's level, holding out his hand. He speaks gently, as if he might startle him, “Are you ready, little crow?” 

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Cameron hides his face behind Bobo, eyes wide as if Grim might eat him whole. Cautiously, he reaches out, his small hand curling around Grims bony finger. "Is your friend coming with us?" Grim's eyes settle on Bobo, a spark of recognition in them. My heart twists in my chest, dread flooding through me. Everything in me wants to say no. But the fear in Cameron's eyes fills me with guilt. He can keep it. Grims eyes meet mine as he stands. Approval. 

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I follow as they walk towards the large steel gates of the graveyard. Cameron glances back at me with uncertainty. I try to smile, my tongue hanging from my jaw. He’ll be ok. I’ll be ok. 

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“Bye puppy!” He calls, waving with Bobo’s paw. It’s a simple gesture, but I think I might cry. The sun begins to peek over the horizon, bathing Grim and Cameron in a warm glow as they step through the gate. Regret hits me as I break into a sprint. Wait-! 

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But then they vanish. Gone as the sun rises on a new day. There's no trace of Camerons rainbow striped sweater or Grims dark cloak. My vision blurs and I can feel that hollow ache in my chest, the lump in my throat. But they’re gone. And I’m here. 

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I’ll be waiting here on my bed of stone.