FANTASTIC TALES FOR FREE

PART 17

I thought about all that, and guess what: barely an hour later (and I’m including the twenty minutes I spent enjoying a well-deserved shower), I was in the alley, walking down towards the tombstones. The night before, as the church bell was ringing the twelve strokes of midnight, I had promised myself never to return to such a place. Yet an irresistible call was pushing me to go back now, in spite of my emotions.

I can already hear you say: What? You only thought about it for an hour? After everything that happened? True, it may seem rushed, but I assure you that I didn’t need more time to reach the only possible conclusion: something extraordinary was happening to me.

I knew that Aunt Maud was incapable of pulling a prank on me – it isn’t her kind of humour – and even though her grandmotherly habits had irritated me more than once, there was no doubt she still had all her marbles. What she had told me of her own adventure was startling and definitive: with a few minor exceptions, it was the same as mine.

Add to that the fact that she had hit the nail on the head: even though I had run away as fast as I could, it wasn’t terror that had kept me awake later on. I told you about an extreme agitation. I even used the word madness. The truth – that I suddenly realised – is that I had tossed and turned in my bed with one obsession in my head: the hope that my fear could be proven.

Only an hour’s worth of reflection? No, a full hour to feel the conscience of the role I had grown inside me. All the elements were falling into place. I had been specially picked to receive Baptism. I had been judged capable to be the chosen one. I finally had an explanation – and what an explanation it was! – for my strong preference for a certain time of year, for the pile of costumes in my room, and for my attraction towards the strange and the morbid.

So I very excitedly went back to the graveyard. Aunt Maud had successfully managed, among other achievements, to arouse my curiosity. What did I have left to discover? When I finally understood what she meant, I was stunned for a while, unable to do anything other than let the fabulous images of last night’s events play in front of my eyes. I hadn’t seen this coming, but I should have: it made sense when I thought about it.

Some lost souls have a mission on this earth: meeting the living and opening their eyes. When they are sure they have succeeded, they simply disappear, and go where they were waiting to go. This is precisely what happened in my case.

Because you see, the tombstone I was looking at – I spotted it almost immediately after crossing the gate – had two dates on it: 1836–1898, and the only epitaph was a profession: grave digger. It also had a name on it, an unlikely name that sounded like a handful of dirt thrown onto the wood of a coffin. I’ll let you guess what it was.

(Go to PART 18)

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All rights reserved
(C) 2015-16 Jérémie Cassiopée

Illustration: Marzena Pereida Piwowar

Translation from the original French: Emilie Watson-Couture and the author.

Do you like Harry Potter, Oksa Pollock or Bobby Pendragon? "The Greatest Scare of My Life" is just as good, but radically different! Give it a go, and you won't be disappointed

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