Graveyard Boy
Who: River and Bod
What: Exploration
When: 27th early morning
Where: Cemetery
Rating: Low
It was the dewy sort of morning.
River wasn't particularly partial to early awakenings. She preferred the safe warmth of blankets and the delicious softness of two pillows until the sun reminded insistently it was time to get up. But early nights and restless dreams had River up just as the sun cast the first of several long shadows into her room.
Truthfully, as she slipped into comfortable shoes and dress with sleeves (that said spring was here, but reluctant) and went outside into something like the birth of a day, River didn't know what tugged her to a place of death.
But cemeteries looked so different in the morning. Fresh and new. Of course, River still heard the painful sound of Nothing, but maybe the promise of morning made the echoing silence bearable.
Except today, it wasn't silent. There was someone else here -- an undercurrent of whispering in the back of her mind; like hearing someone talking in the other room. She stopped at the entrance, her fingers wrapped around the iron bars. Unmoving. Farther down the lane stood an oak whose branches hung temptingly over the fence. River wasted no time using it to drop into the graveyard. Here! ...the whisper was louder, but she couldn't pick out the words.
As she made her way deeper into the sea of jutting stones, River remembered old wives' tales, and stayed clear of stepping on any graves for fear of superstition.
What: Exploration
When: 27th early morning
Where: Cemetery
Rating: Low
It was the dewy sort of morning.
River wasn't particularly partial to early awakenings. She preferred the safe warmth of blankets and the delicious softness of two pillows until the sun reminded insistently it was time to get up. But early nights and restless dreams had River up just as the sun cast the first of several long shadows into her room.
Truthfully, as she slipped into comfortable shoes and dress with sleeves (that said spring was here, but reluctant) and went outside into something like the birth of a day, River didn't know what tugged her to a place of death.
But cemeteries looked so different in the morning. Fresh and new. Of course, River still heard the painful sound of Nothing, but maybe the promise of morning made the echoing silence bearable.
Except today, it wasn't silent. There was someone else here -- an undercurrent of whispering in the back of her mind; like hearing someone talking in the other room. She stopped at the entrance, her fingers wrapped around the iron bars. Unmoving. Farther down the lane stood an oak whose branches hung temptingly over the fence. River wasted no time using it to drop into the graveyard. Here! ...the whisper was louder, but she couldn't pick out the words.
As she made her way deeper into the sea of jutting stones, River remembered old wives' tales, and stayed clear of stepping on any graves for fear of superstition.