An Unusual Monologue

Posted: February 26, 2008 in Dark, Drama, Fiction, Graveyard, Horror, Love, Romance, Ugly, Women

“You know, I’ve always wanted a little flat by the ocean. Just a little place, nothin’ fancy, just a place where I can take a quick stroll down to the shoreline…would you come see me, Charlie love?”
The silence is as thick as the dark fog swirling through the graveyard; crunching, crackling footsteps suddenly shatter the mouldering tranquility of the dead. A swinging lantern bobs through the black expanse spreading throughout the crypt.
“Would you come see me, pretty Charlie?”
The lantern never pauses in its relentless movement towards the crumbling, aged resting place of so many corpses.
“I’d like that, Charlie. I really would.” The woman stops her pursuit of the lantern for a moment to brush a lank lock of greasy hair from her eyes. She hesitates, then speaks to the stubbornly consistent light in front of her.
“Oh Charlie, can’t you see that I’m mad about you? Won’t you please speak to me just a bit?”
The light stops and with a sudden clang, two shovels crash to the ground. The man gestures vaguely at the grave in front of them, and the woman dreamily drifts forward to pick up the metal tool.
“I mean, we can always get a little bit of work on the side to support us. That’s not hard, is it? We can get jobs like this… and I can paint! I’ve shown you my art, haven’t I Charlie?”
Stifled shoveling noises are slow and steady as the cold and shadowy night enshrouds the working pair. The noise quickens by the side of the flickering lamp; yet the woman decreases her speed, sets down her shovel.
“I wish you could hear me, Charlie. I wish you knew what I felt.”
The hole is around five feet deep by now; the digging is halted by a loud clanging, the crack of metal against metal. A face moves into the lamplight, flushed with excitement.
The face of a deaf and mute man.
“Charlie? What’d you find?”
More clanging. The crunch of a breaking lock. A triumphant clatter of metal and wood against metal and wood as Charlie throws the shovel onto the chest buried in the graveyard.
Face gleaming with greed and hunger, Charlie moves to claim the forgotten treasure.
“CHARLIE!” The woman screams and moans in desperation, picking up her shovel from the earth. “WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER ME!?”
She heaves the tool high, and the soil-encrusted blade swings down, down, down, into Charlie’s deaf skull.
The sound of metal on bone is a small noise in the night, a mere raindrop in a bucket of chirping crickets and empty silence that stretches for miles around.
The woman drops the metal and wood to meet more metal and wood; the hole is the new resting place for two shovels, a chest that may never be opened and a dead body that’s been opened by fate and the vagaries of a love that cannot be.
“Goodbye, Charlie. I hope I can visit you tomorrow.”
The lantern bobs through dark night and creeping fog.

  1. goodnightcat says:

    Very creepily delightful. One of my favorite things you’ve written. Love how morbid it is

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