The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Grave Discussion
by Kim Richards

“How many are buried inside you? The little cenotaph asked.

“It’s called entombment little one,” the old mausoleum replied. “Burial is when the deceased is put into the ground.”

“Oh, well…how many are entombed inside your crypt?”

“I am full. That is why they built you. When the next person passes away, they will entomb them within your crypt.”

“How long will that take? Then will I be a mausoleum like you?” Cenotaph asked.

“Yes, then you become a mausoleum but do not be in a great hurry for it. You will watch over them many more years than they live.”

“Forever?”

“A few will stay forever. Most will mummify or crumble to dust.” Mausoleum said.

“Who is buried between us?”

Mausoleum let out a sigh so Cenotaph continued, “In the grave with an angel on top of the head stone. Is an angel buried there?”

Mausoleum laughed a deep echoing sound. “There is no angel buried there. Only one who was the first of his kind. He has many children—living and dead. He used to walk the night.”

“Used to? Why did he stop?”

“When they found out who he was, they destroyed him and cut his body into pieces. His head is buried beneath the angel. Before you ask, I do not know where they took the rest. Many of his children also walked the night. Eight of them used to reside in my crypt. The people were afraid so they destroyed the night children in the same manner as their creator. I have no idea what happened to those bodies. They buried more dead in my crypt spaces.”

Cenotaph said in a sad voice, “Why are they so mean?”

“It is the way of things. The destroyed rise up to become the destroyer. All fall in the end.”

“Even us?”

“Even us. Though it will be centuries before our stones crumble, or our walls fall. Even then, it will take a drastic event such as an earthquake to tumble us down.”

Dong. Dong. Dong. Church bells rang out across the warm, still air.

Mausoleum said, “Your wait may not be long. I know from the heavy way those bells toll that they sing of a funeral. Weddings are the smaller bells which chime more quickly. Prepare yourself, little one, your duties soon begin. Serve them well and serve them long.”

Cenotaph said his last words before becoming a full on mausoleum himself, “I will!”

Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com