Thursday, September 10, 2009

SYTYCW First Challenge--First Entry

Avin crossed his arms as he leaned back against the black Bently, watching the wind play. At his feet the leaves scraped dryly across the pavement in little eddies, circling his boots before vanishing off into the darkness again. The wind was wild tonight. It whipped through the treetops, making the old oaks moan as it battled the thinnest branches against one another in civil war. Avin grit his teeth and his lips thinned into their familiar scowl. Even the trees were complaining. Forcing himself to relax, Avin shoved the burgeoning irritation away and finally lifted his eyes to what was across the street.

It was abysmal dark under the canopy of the lifeless branches. Not many would be able to make out what was hidden there at the edge of the road between him and the thick of the forest. The moon finally slipped from behind the cascade of clouds and light played across what was left of an aged sign. The words had long since vanished and he caught himself straining to read what was written. Disgusted Avin quickly looked away again. He had a bitter dryness in his throat as regret and anger threatened to bubble up and strangle him. Avin didn’t need to read it, he knew what the sign said.

Everdale Cemetery.

He hadn’t forgotten in one hundred and forty-five years, and it wasn’t likely he’d start now. With a little huff that couldn’t even be called a laugh Avin turned to the oncoming rush of the storm rumbling above him. Pressing himself into the wind in silent defiance, he let the storm’s sharp autumn chill consume his troubled senses.

He smelled rain. Moisture hung heavy in the air thick enough to taste. The damp clung to his skin and coated everything in its cloying embrace. The mist was the storms subtle precursor to the onslaught to come. His night’s work may prove messy if time turned against him too. Avin thought briefly of the Bently with its creamy leather seats, but it was a moot. What needed to be done, would be, and that was that. Avin chuckled lowly at himself. It was funny really, in a way.

All the other times he’d done this very same thing he’d never had a moment’s hesitation… until now. This was so unlike him. His thoughts of late had been troubling him and this was no different. Maybe he was growing melancholy in his age.
With a heavy sigh, Avin reached behind him, grabbed the shovel out of the convertibles backseat and strode across the street.

Dead leaves crunched under his passing as he waded through the tall grass and into the darkness between the massive trunks. The forest swallowed him in its primal presence just as it had the cemetery all those years ago. Walking deeper into the ancient grove his boots stirred up the deep earthy scent of the ground as he passed into Everdale. All about him the silver splashes of moonlight fell through the skeletal boughs above to find the stones, painting some into pale obelisks for their forgotten heroes where others remained simply shadows forever, their litanies faded smooth from time.

Avin’s steps slowed as he passed the marble markers. Resisting the urge to reach and touch them as he passed in a somber greeting. He knew each marker by heart and his memory was the only memorial for more than he wished to count, these men included. The small union cemetery was always this size, less than two dozen graves, but somehow over the years it always seemed to grow larger. As if each regret pushed its boundaries further every year he came here and the number of dead men multiplied. Blinking hard Avin stopped, and stood in the center of Everdale. Before him the broken flag pole had finally succumbed to time. The white oak shaft he had carved to stand for his fallen friends lay across the mausoleum door. Avin would never name the emotion that swam up into his throat and burned his eyes as he reached out lightly and grasped the pole. It disintegrated in his hand, the pieces of rotted oak falling away in splinters under his touch. Against his will his eyes blurred and his heart picked up pace as the pole crumbled.

Avin blinked away the wetness and pushed open the ornate iron door. The cold metal burned his palms. Avin gripped it tighter, relishing the pain it as the pattern scalded itself into his hands. The whorls and circles scarring his flesh as he sought his silent penance, just like he did every year. Finally Avin let go and the pain in his hands went away only to worm into his heart instead.

There it was. Joshua’s tomb.

Avin didn’t even remember pushing the center stone off carefully or digging down the several feet below the mausoleums floor, although he knew he did it. This whole night was only this moment. Avin was staring down at the lid of Joshua’s coffin.

Carefully he reached around the edge and lifted it.

Soft brown locks framed the boyish face of the man inside. A strong jaw and masculine beauty that always turned the ladies heads no matter where they traveled or how battle weary they were. Joshua Samuel Everdale looked exactly the same he had the night Avin buried him. The union uniform that never quite fit his broad six four frame had long since faded and turned to simple threads in spots.

“So my friend will you rise tonight?” Avin’s voice was a harsh plea.

Deep hazel eyes opened, and Joshua stared up at him. The pain of losing their troop still hot in his tear filed stare. Joshua’s voice was a whisper. “No.”

With a resigned nod, Avin closed the lid on his secret and wept.

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