The Graveyard's Abyss: Forgotten Husband

Bright green grass surrounded the tall mostly-gray tombstones in the cemetery. For some reason, the tombstones did not look real coming out of the ground. A few of them, the largest and thickest tombstones at the front of the cemetery, dated all the way back to the early 1800s. A small man riding a huge circular lawnmower with a strange handlebar steering mechanism was making sharp turns around the headstones, smiling and working away cutting the grass with skill and speed.

A blue Chevy Cavalier pulled into the gravel driveway of the cemetery, it drove slowly toward the east end of the graveyard. The car creeped along for awhile, then pulled halfway onto the freshly cut grass and two women in their 50s stepped out: one with frosted gray hair - Doreen; and the other with thick glasses and straight brown hair - Sheila.

"This is where my mother is buried," Doreen said, pointing down to a tall, nicely-engraved headstone. "This stone cost us about five grand, if I remember right."

"It's a good one, no doubt about it," Sheila said, folding her arms. "Where are your grandparents buried?"

"Just over there a few feet," Doreen said, motioning with a flick of her wrist. The gold jewelry on her fingers sparkled.

"Right," said Sheila. She took a cigarette case out of her purse and lit a long menthal cigarette. "Now I remember. I sure do miss your mother."

"Me too," said Doreen pensively.

Sheila blew a large cloud of creamy white smoke in front of them, and when it dissipated Doreen saw the man on the riding lawnmower. He stopped, looked their way, then jumped off the mower and began walking toward them, gradually increasing his speed.

"Oh, crap," said Doreen, shaking her head.

"What is it. What's wrong?" Sheila said, glancing around nervously.

The man on the lawnmower broke into a light jog. He was wearing tan khaki shorts and a green ball cap with 'Speed King Foundry' written across the front in bold black letters.

"It's my ex-husband, Werlin. He's coming toward us. He works here at the cemetery. Oh my God. Why can't he just leave me alone."

"Werlin still works here?" said Sheila, folding her arms casually and watching the little man run toward them.

"Yeah. Jesus Christ, he sure is a nuisance. He became obsessed with me after the divorce. A fatal attraction." Doreen turned her back to the jogging man and looked down at the ground.

Werlin came up and tapped Doreen on the shoulder softly. "Hello Doreen, how have you been? You sure look nice today." He stood very close to Doreen's face and she took a step backward.

"Werlin, I'm trying to show Sheila my mother's grave. Do you mind? Can't you give us a little privacy here?"

"Yeah, Werlin," Sheila said. "Go on and get back on that lawn mower. Leave Doreen alone. You're upsetting her." Sheila took a deep drag off her cigarette to calm herself down.

But Werlin paid no attention to Sheila. He was smiling and moving toward Doreen again, his face with its large nose moving very close to hers. He had a bad habit of invading a person's private space when speaking to them; especially Doreen's, or any of his other ex-wives. "Doreen, I've been trying to get ahold of you for months now. Why don't you ever answer your phone when I call? I haven't even seen you around town lately. I just want to talk for awhile. Find out how you've been after the divorce. Is that so terrible." He was speaking loudly with his lips only inches from Doreen's cheek. "Where are you living now?" he said.

"That's none of your concern, Werlin. Now I told you we're busy here. Can't you take a hint? Sheila and I don't want you around. Now back up please. You're getting too close to me."

Sheila was staring at Werlin with a serious expression, holding her cigarette out to one side in a defiant way. "Where is your wife at, Werlin?" Sheila said.

"She's at home making dinner probably. We're having German pizza tonight. Hey Doreen, I have a present for you. Wait here while I get it. It'll just take a second."

Werlin ran off toward the main office building in the cemetary. Doreen watched him flail his thin arms awkwardly as he sprinted across the bright green grass. The way he moved his skinny body brought back bad memories of Werlin's "physicality," as she would say, and Doreen shook her head and frowned.

"Come on, Sheila, let's get the hell out of here," Doreen said.

They went over to the Chevy Cavalier and got in and slammed the doors and Doreen floored it down the gravel road out of the cemetary. Once they hit the highway, she released her pent up emotions and anger at Werlin and the memories of suffering through months of a bad and boring marriage. "Jesus! I can't even go to a freakin' graveyard without that stupid S.O.B. running over and sticking his big nose in my face! That worthless dip stick. Why doesn't he just drop dead already."

"How long were you married to him?" Shiela said, using her now burned-down cigarette to light a fresh one.

"For about eight months. God, he was such a pig."

Shiela nodded while taking another deep drag from her fresh cigarette.

"You know what I remember most about him, Sheila?"

"What's that."

"We'd be sitting around at night watching television and drinking. I would be sitting there, slightly behind him, and I could see him rolling around boogers on his dirty fingers."

"What did you say?" Sheila said, squinting and leaning back.

"I said Werlin would be rolling around perfect little balls of boogers on his fingers."

"My God, that's so disgusting."

"Tell me about it. There would be these little round red balls, little bloody boogers that he would roll on his fingertips as we watched t.v. at night. Then he would put those same filthy hands on me later. That's when I knew it would soon be over."

Oouuggch. Ooouuggch.

"What's that noise?" Doreen said, looking over at Sheila.

"That was me gagging. You're making me sick with this horrible Werlin story."

"Yeah, well, he definitely made ME sick, I'll tell you that. Which is why I divorced him. What a degenerate. And now I can't even go to the damn graveyard to visit my dead relatives without him running over bugging me."

"Let's never talk about him again," Sheila said. "To hell with Werlin."

"You got a deal," said Doreen.

Then she pressed down on the accelerator and roared her little Chevy Cavalier down the highway.

-end-

Jason Earls is author of the books Red Zen, Heartless B*stard In Ecstasy, How to Become a Guitar Player from Hell, Cocoon of Terror, If(Sid_Vicious == TRUE && Alan_Turing == TRUE) {ERROR_Cyberpunk(); } and 0.136101521283655... available at Amazon.com and other online book stores. His fiction and mathematical work have been published in Red Scream, Scientia Magna, three of Clifford Pickover's books, Wretched & Violent, Mathworld, Chiaroscuro, Switchblade, Dogmatika, Neometropolis, Prime Curios, the Online Encyclopedia of Integer Sequences, OG's Speculative Fiction, AlienSkin, Escaping Elsewhere, Werewolf, Recreational and Educational Computing, Thirteen, Theatre of Decay, Nocturnal Ooze, Prime Curios, Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens, Swallow's Tail, and other publications. He currently resides in Texas with his wife, Christine.