She felt weird crossing under the iron archway. It was that “third wheel” weird, that “I shouldn’t be here” weird, that “I don’t belong here” weird. She was right; the living didn’t belong there.

Coming here, it’s like getting a shot, she thought. Sure, it’s good for you and all, but seein’ that needle makes you shudder every time, no matter what.

Her sky-blue eyes darted back and forth as she uneasily walked the path before her. It was as if she were searching for something, or hoping to find someone. Of course, this was the last place she’d choose to go for a nice chat with a friend, but he hadn’t left her much of a choice.

There was a light breeze in the air, just enough to lift her sandstone hair from her shoulders. Every now and then, it would brush against her arms like a hand reaching out for her, causing a slight hiccup in her heartbeat.

I should have worn long sleeves, she though as she rubbed her right arm with her free hand. The other carried three roses tied together with a yellow ribbon and a small paper sack. She wore the gray tank-top she normally slept in along with an old pair of blue jeans she had grabbed from her clothes hamper. It was 3 AM; there was no need to look nice. Especially for him.

She took another step before the flapping of feathers disturbed the night air. It was a crow that spooked her as it cawed and shot out of a nearby tree. She froze in her tracks, moving only her lips as they attempted to let loose a frightful yelp, but nothing came out. Her heart raced, her hands shook, her body trembled as she desperately willed it to stop. Then all was quiet.

“Come on, Jen, pull yourself together,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. They can’t do anything.”

After a deep breath, Jen continued her walk through the Oakview Community Cemetery.

---

Though it may not seem like it, I’m a regular at cemeteries; just not this one. I’ve found over the years that graveyards give me the best inspiration. You see, it’s been said that dead men tell no tales. I know different, though. Every grave has a past to it, every headstone a story. If you listen close, you can hear it too. Just close your eyes and open your heart, for this is Soulspeak.