Death in the Mausoleum

This was a story my uncle told my father, and was eventually told to me.


George stared emotionlessly as one by one the mourners began to leave. His grief made it hard to believe he had been so happy just days before. A senseless accident, and just like that his wife was gone. As the sun began to fade on the horizon, darkness filled the crypt. "I'm getting ready to lock up," grunted the caretaker, rudely shattering the silence. George nodded weakly in acknowledgement. "Just give me a few more minutes." He slumped down in a chair beside her tomb and began reminiscing about the times they had shared, and imagining the life they might have had together. Exhausted with the overwhelming realization of loss he slowly drifted off to sleep.


Hours passed by as he slept in the mausoleum. The stir of night creatures suddenly woke him in a fright. He hurried to the door and yanked at the handle. It was locked shut! His heart beat quickened as he struggled with the door. After several minutes he realized it was no use and returned to his chair defeated. "The caretaker will come by soon," he assured himself. But this did no good. The noises outside continued to unease him...terrify him even. The more time passed he began to believe that the noises were coming from within the mausoleum.


A sudden uncomfortably loud creaking noise sent him flying from his chair. His eyes darted around, searching the darkness of the crypt. What he saw turned his blood cold. The tomb was opening and his wife's arm was thrashing about, mangled and bloodied. In a wave of panic he hammered his fists against one of the windows, breaking the glass. He managed to pull himself up and jump out. He fell hard onto the ground below and quickly scrambled to his feet. Behind him he could hear the sickening sound of her corpse descend, sending him into a sprint. The night fog hindered his vision as he stumbled aimlessly through the rows of headstones . Pale moonlight illuminated the path for a second as the clouds shifted. He followed the path, running so hard he felt as if his lungs would burst. Finally he could see the cast iron gate looming closer in sight. He slowed down, relieved that he could finally catch his breath. The sudden calm of the cemetery played tricks with his mind. May be it was all a morbid delusion dreamt up by a mind tortured with grief. Before he could reach the gate he suddenly felt two bloodied arms wrap around him and teeth sinking into his flesh... She drug him through the darkness back to her tomb, keeping him forever in life and death.

Lindsay

In Memory of

Robert Lee

1957-2000



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