Author: Charles Stoll

When they exited the subway, they saw a sign on the corner reading: St. Killian’s Cemetery, with an arrow pointing to the right. They followed the sign and after two blocks, found the cemetery. The steel gates guarding the dead were impressive, a good twelve feet tall and securely locked for the night. In all directions, as far as the eye could see, the impenetrable fence continued.
“Every fence has a weakness,” said Marvin, Sr., “We’ve just got to find it.”
They walked wordlessly the entire length of the cemetery. When they turned the corner, they noticed that the barrier had changed to an easy-to-negotiate four foot anchor fence. Sarah climbed right over. Jacob attempted to help Marvin, Sr., who pushed him away and managed the feat himself. Jacob followed, embarrassed.
Sarah repeatedly shifted her eyes from the scene before her and the map in her hand, shaking her head as if something didn’t add up.
“This is not a map of these grounds. There are two paths in opposite directions here, but only one path on my map,” she said.
“We’ll just have to find it by the grave number,” Marvin, Sr. said.
Jacob stared dizzily at the huge cemetery, its gently rolling hills, its majestic elms and oak trees so handsomely backlit by the moon, the tombstones standing erect in perfect rows, like a marble orchard.
“You know, it’s really not as scary as I imagined,” Jacob said. “It’s actually very peaceful.”
“Yeah, it’s a great place for a picnic,” Sarah said sarcastically. “I think you forgot what we’re doing here, Jake. It won’t seem so pretty later.”
“What was the grave number?” Marvin, Sr. asked. He had found a sign where the two paths began designating plots one to five hundred to the right and five-zero-one to one thousand to the left.
“PF657 is what it says,” Sarah said. They headed to the left.
“I can’t believe how much money they spend on the dead,” Marvin, Sr. observed, snorting his contempt. “They manicure these grounds and place fresh flowers in front of every stone, as if the dead could appreciate it.”
“I think that’s done for the visitors more than the dead,” Sarah said.
“That’s even crazier,” Jacob joined in. “Why would people visit the dead? What’s the point?” No one answered.
They continued on in silence, occasionally checking the bronze markers at the edge of each row. Each one listed the plots that could be found in that row. They walked a good half mile when they found the marker that said six-fifty to six-seventy.
All three scrambled to the seventh grave in the row, Marvin, Sr., took up the rear.
Jacob read the stone aloud: “Brigadier General Stanley Grant. 1852-1918.”
“Well, that was a long trip for nothing,” Marvin, Sr. lamented.
“Why would she have a map that leads to the wrong grave?” Jacob asked. Marvin, Sr. was examining the grave marker.
“Look.” He said, pointing at the grave number. “It says SKC657. But the grandmother’s grave is PF657. What do you think the difference is?”
“I know what’s going on here. You have to remember, Mildred’s grandmother was a poor heretic, not a God-fearing Christian,” Sarah explained, “She’d go where they dump all the trouble makers, outside the consecrated grounds. PF, Potter’s Field, get it? SKC, St. Killian’s Cemetery.”
“That’s why I keep her around,” Jacob beamed. 
“Where do you think that spot is?” Marvin, Sr. asked.
“They’re usually at the back of the cemetery, or the most undesirable part.” She scanned the distance and noticed a stand of trees that had overgrown brush that had never been properly pruned. “I have a feeling it’s this way.”
As they approached the unmanicured territory, the creepy feeling returned. There was a tilted sign that said non-Church property and a single path like on Sarah’s map. There were small, aged wooden gates at the entrance. One gate was lying on the ground. They walked over it and followed the map, hoping to find the correct grave.
The individual plots were barely distinguishable from each other in this section of the cemetery. Some stones were missing and some were overturned.
“Hey, over here,” Jacob yelled, “Plot PF657, Mildred Lumpford.” He aimed the flashlight on the marker to show the others.
A gleam appeared in Marvin, Sr.’s eye as he grabbed the shovel and invaded the earth.
“Oh, God,” said Sarah, “Then this wasn’t all a dream.”
“I’m afraid this is where reality begins,” said Marvin, Sr. “This is what life really is all about, discovering the unknowable, unraveling the mystery.” He gained enthusiasm and shoveled carelessly, spraying Sarah’s jeans with dirt.
“Not everyone is cut out for this crap, you know,” Sarah cried. “Some of us would rather read about it in books.”
Marvin, Sr. leaned against his shovel and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
“Are you the same girl who went on an adventure to find a man she didn’t even know? Are you the same girl who took down Jacob five minutes after you met him?”
“What makes you think that?” She flashed a dirty look at Jacob.
“Men talk, just like women.”
“Don’t go on. I get your point,” Sarah interrupted. Jacob flushed. “I get that we have to take leaps of faith. And we take it further and further until we end up with a God that sees and knows everything. And that’s the only way we can make this crazy life make sense.”
“That still doesn’t make it make sense to me,” Jacob jumped in, diverted from reading the surrounding gravestones. “I’m an atheist.”
“And how smugly you say that,” Marvin, Sr. commented. “An atheist is just someone who has concluded that he must be the greatest intelligence in the Universe since he can find no other. It takes an incredible amount of vanity to make such a claim.”
“You hear that?” Sarah yelled to Jacob, who had resumed his reading of grave markers.
“Yeah, I hear you,” Jacob responded, “and I’m ignoring you on purpose. So far, I haven’t heard any proof of God’s existence.”
Marvin, Sr. continued to dig ever more fervently but could not ignore the conversation. “You can’t prove God doesn’t exist either.  I think it would be far easier to prove God must exist than that He doesn’t. Some philosopher once said that if there wasn’t a God, we would have to invent Him.”
“You can’t prove that either.” Jacob shone his light into the ever deepening hole. “So why do you waste your time?”
“Because the human spirit needs to know. Because we all sense that our lives extend beyond our bodies and minds, that we might be connected somehow to a greater source,” Marvin, Sr.’s voice rose like a hymn in a cathedral. “Your spirit yearns to know about things that lie beyond the physical plane, like love and truth and peace and yes, God. According to you, none of these things exist because you can’t see or measure them. But I know better.” He looked at Jacob with disdain. “Here, take this shovel. Maybe you were meant to be more of a worker than a thinker.”
“He has a point, you know,” Sarah said to Jacob. “How did we fall in love so easily when we knew nothing about each other? We took lots of leaps of faith and wound up with something very real, even if you can’t see or measure it, because we both felt it.”
“Well, maybe,” Jacob said defensively. “All I know is that when you start believing in things that you cannot prove exist, you are on a slippery slope to becoming delusional.” 
He pointed towards the old man, who was dancing in the darkness among the graves, expressing his freedom. “See?”  Jacob playfully shoveled some dirt in Sarah’s direction. She grabbed a handful and tossed it back.
“Pleeeaase don’t tell me you only rely on proven fact; you know that’s a lie,” Sarah pleaded, “You always assume you know what people are thinking when you really don’t.”
“Some people are easy to figure out.”
            “You come up with crazy theories about why the government does this or that and it’s not based on fact.”
            “Sometimes, you just infer things.”
“No, you are filling in the missing pieces with information you don’t know, like everyone else, just to get a complete picture in your head. Without God, you never have a complete picture.”
“And like everyone else, atheist or not, you would still probably like to know the reason for your existence.” Marvin, Sr. had danced his way back into the conversation.
“It would help, but it’s not coming,” Jacob objected. “Why can’t you just let me accept that I know I cannot know, and let me get on with it.”
“Because if you don’t even know what your life is for, how can you get on with it?”
Confused, Jacob dug the shovel into the earth. They all heard the solid thud. The three quickly snapped to attention and remembered why they were there, the excitement returning. Marvin, Sr. grabbed the shovel and scraped the remaining dirt from atop the coffin. Proud of his accomplishment, he danced another jig, enjoying the sounds of his shoes tapping on the solid wood, and shouted out loud, “This is what life is all about, finding your spirit, having the courage to find out the truth, earning the right to speak with God.” His dance became more and more maniacal until his right foot went straight through the coffin’s top.
“Help. I feel bone.” Marvin, Sr.’s face went pale as he struggled to remove his foot to no avail. Jacob pulled on his left arm until the foot emerged.
“Not so full of human spirit now, are you?” Sarah challenged the old man, “It seems that fear sucks the spirit right out of you.”
“Anyone would be caught off guard when they touch a corpse.” Marvin, Sr. felt his strength returning and mopped his forehead. “The human spirit always comes back stronger when it gets trampled upon. I can feel that scroll calling out to me. Can you hear it, Sarah? Hand me the crowbar, Jacob.”
Marvin, Sr. cautiously inserted the steel rod under the rim of the coffin, but could not gain enough leverage to pry it loose. Jacob jumped into the hole and they took turns jumping on the crowbar until they heard the faintest of squeaks. They continued to work it until the wood groaned and cracked and Grandma was suddenly right there with them.
Jacob shone his light on the corpse and his body revolted. She did not look like she was expecting company. Her blue gingham dress lay in tatters, no longer covering all her delicate areas. A hole in her skull above her left eye gave home to a family of maggots and her hair was scattered in clumps throughout the casket.
As Jacob overcame his revulsion, the two men focused on finding the scroll. Sarah, not wanting to be too close to the dead or too far from the living, sat on the ground a few feet away.
Jacob knocked his flashlight against the coffin’s walls. “Nothing but solid wood here. There is no place to hide a scroll.”
Marvin, Sr. grabbed the flashlight and shone it all about the coffin. “Looks like she’s lying on a pad or something.  It could be hidden in there.”
“We’re going to have to lift the body out first.” Jacob looked at Marvin, Sr. and a grin formed out of nowhere.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I think so,” Jacob said, “Hey, Sarah. Could you give me a hand getting out of this hole?”
She got up clumsily. “I guess so. Are we leaving soon?”
The two men conspired. Jacob lifted Grandma’s right hand but could not reach Sarah’s outstretched hand.
“Push harder,” yelled Sarah.
“You’ll have to pull me out by the arm. I’m weak from shoveling.”
The two men pushed upwards on the body. Sarah pulled as hard as she could and fell backwards with a corpse upon her. A shriek to wake the dead emerged from her delicate lips. She pushed the body off of her and began throwing rocks and dirt at the two wise guys in the hole.
“I will bury you two alive.” 
As she continued to heave dirt, she could not help but notice the awkward way the body was splayed. Instinctively, she grabbed it and dragged it to a more comfortable position, sitting it against a large oak. Satisfied that she had made the corpse appear more human, ignoring the fact that its head fell forward, she was surprised that the whole process no longer disgusted her.
“I bet you think we’re all crazy,” she said to the corpse.
Not receiving a response, she felt the “crazy” to invade her. She went over to the body and tried to maneuver the jaw up and down herself and make the woman talk, but found herself standing there with Grandma’s jaw in her hand.
“Do you see what you’ve done now?” She threw the jaw away.
“Who are you talking to up there?” Marvin, Sr.’s voice rose from the hole.
“Nobody. I mean you,” Sarah thought quickly; she did not want to have to explain her brief moment of insanity. “Have you guys found that damn scroll?”
“I tore up all the padding and came up with nothing. Zero. Zilch.  A long trip for nothing.” Jacob climbed out of the hole and then assisted Marvin, Sr.
“Does she look a little different to you?” Marvin asked Jacob as he looked at Grandma’s new face. Jacob saw the mangled jaw. He turned to the side and vomited.
“Oh, grow a pair, would you,” Sarah said.
Marvin, Sr. cast a surprised look at Sarah. “And when did you grow a pair? Last I remember you were the queasiest one among us.”
“That was before I had a little alone time with Grandma. I agreed not to break her anymore if she would forget how we defiled her grave.”
“I can’t believe she would agree to something like that,” Jacob said, “Did she tell you that herself?”
“It was a tacit understanding.” Sarah smiled. The two men laughed.
“Well, my night wasn’t a complete waste,” said Marvin, Sr., “if I’ve shown Sarah that once you are placed in a situation, you can cope with most anything.”
“I appreciate the lesson, but I hate your teaching methods,” Sarah informed him. “But I’ve got to admit, I did have to expand my concept of reality very quickly when I found myself alone with a corpse at midnight.”
“See what you can learn from a corpse?” Jacob asked.
“Yes, it’s all because of you, Mildred,” Marvin, Sr. reached for the body. He put his left hand in hers and his right arm about her waist. Lifting her gently, he snapped her in half but her dress created the illusion of legs as he danced with her amongst the graves.	
“Can you believe him?” Sarah asked.
“After the first puke, you can believe anything.”
“I know what you mean.” Sarah watched as a rib bone fell clattering to earth. “Do you think we could rebury her before she’s just a pile of bones?” She asked Marvin.
“We started out on a mission,” Jacob reminded him, “Now we’re just defiling a grave. Your God wouldn’t approve.”
“We are defiling nothing,” Marvin, Sr. said. “We are merely celebrating a spirit that has found its way home. These bones mean nothing.” He snapped another rib and threw it a distance for emphasis. “And God would approve of my little dance because you cannot imprison the human spirit. It always breaks free, no matter the situation. I dance the dance of life.” He leaned the torso back into a dip and the remaining ribs dropped.
“There’s your clue that you went too far,” Jacob said, averting his eyes.
“Okay, I know when I’m licked.” Marvin, Sr. carefully collected the bones, the pieces of skull, arms and leg, and dumped them unceremoniously back into the open casket. Sarah and Marvin pushed dirt in the grave with their hands and feet while Jacob shoveled.
Sarah looked at Marvin, Sr. cautiously. “You know, I liked what you said about the human spirit being incapable of staying within the body. It’s like we’re reaching for something that exists beyond our own lives.”
“Yes, precisely. We need to know what exists next, why we are here now, what the meaning of life is, and yes, if there is a God. That’s why I keep challenging God, because I want Him to show His face.”
“And let me guess. He hasn’t.” Jacob said soberly.
“That’s right, wise guy. But I can’t sit back complacently and wait for it to come to me. The spirit inside commands me to continue the search. You don’t know what it feels like.”
 	“Did you know that the definition of insanity is when you do the same thing over and over, but you expect different results?” Jacob responded.
“I think the definition of boring is when you do the same thing over and over and are satisfied with the same result,” Marvin, Sr. said.
“Regardless. You will never get the answer you seek,” Jacob said nonchalantly.
“The answer is not the important thing. Learning the reality of your own spirit is the goal.” 
“Let’s get out of here,” Sarah said.