A Walk

These walks through the cemetery have taught me more than any formal schooling ever would. It’s also a lot cheaper. Normalcy is gated off a whole different atmosphere is felt the deeper you wander. Things you reserve for tragedy you see every day. Empathy stops at the gates after a while and funerals no longer break your heart. People often trod the slate pavement when existential dread or crisis sets in and they’ve finally cracked. Then of course there’s your weirdo over there having a blast.

Oh wait…
That’s me.

Regardless of any oddity I present to the seemingly somber scene one thing remains the same:
Death is the least frightening thing you could ever face.

These graveyards are like a living Samhain. The veil between life and death, this world and the next are sheer and thin. In fact, I maintain that an amateur could waltz in and put a nice tear in it. With that being said, I come in quite regularly to rip the veil to shreds.
I find it an extremely healthy habit. Every now and again it’s good for a lady to come by and shred the shroud of death. You know, unmask the face of who some address as “god”.

Although I am alone, I never walk these acres alone. The holy reaper keeps a strict eye on me and these grounds. He keeps my company for good reason. I need to keep my balance.
Yes my balance.
I can’t lose balance of mortality and immortality. When one lives in the age of supreme care and First World Countries it’s extremely easy to take health for granted. Things that were once a death sentence are now simple inconveniences.
Even the ailment that sets my body’s defenses against me and promised me a slow and agonizing walk to a maggot filled grave proves merely an inconvenience most days. Each headstone, mausoleum, and unmarked plot reminds me of how fortunate I am to have been diagnosed in the twenty-first century versus the fourteenth. I lived. One day I will get my eternal night ride to the morgue and that’s perfectly fine.

Who wants to live forever? You age into a vegetable. My body knows when it’s ready for eternal rest. I never protested against it before and I won’t start then. I’ll take my place among these grey and splotched stone walls and continue my walks as a transcendent being.
Yes. I have big plans for death.
Until then, I have earthly madness to attend to. Concerts to scream at, people to f**k, hours to sleep and so much more.

These strolls are never somber. Humbling at worst, enlightening at best. One foot in front of the other as I walk the white line that separates me from the casket. It is a careful walk. Every step must be deliberate. Anything can shove you into your comfy pine box. Life, routine and our mental states make us walk the plank into a six foot pit. Keeping out of the pit is a balancing act. They are balancing acts of the mind, body and spirit. The Holy Trinity of Consciousness.

However, my life like my walks must come to an end. I keep the end for self-assurance.
Though I have walked in the shadow of death, I fear nothing. For the plagues of life have beaten and battered me already. Once I leave these gates I am open but not weak to attacks. What rises will eventually fall and what falls can rise once more. What breathes life too breathes death.
…
Oh look, I’ve spotted a kitten.

Reviews

[PaintedBirdy]

hey Demi! i like your story, and specifically how you intertwined the narrator's conflicting need for balance AND for pushing the boundaries of life. like the narrator is saying "it's important to stay balanced, but i want to see how close i can get to death before i actually die too!" the whole narration seems to have a level-headedness to it too which adds to the wisdom that the narrator has learned throughout their life (re-emphasizing the very first sentence of this story!). thanks for sharing this :)

[Harlotte Crow]

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I feared it was a little somber but I'm so happy you saw the adventure in the piece! :D

[R J Askew]

I came back to read this line again: Until then, I have earthly madness to attend to. Concerts to scream at, people to f**k, hours to sleep and so much more.
It is the weary cheerfulness of it that appeals!

[R J Askew]

Sustained mood and observation. Interesting internal debate. And a strange sense of contented calm too. Dark whimsy. Miaow!