q The Grave Digger / Maggie Rosinski

TheGravedigger

Maggie Rosinski

The first snowstorm of the winter had ripped through One could not bear it for long, with the memory of barbed

St. Stevens just a few days ago, but now in the village wire, mangled flesh, and distant fires still fresh in the mind. the snow lay still, covering each roof in a white shroud. No, I thought, it cannot be. Whoever this is, they are in a

I clutched my cloak tighter to my chest as I stepped place they should not be, and that means they are up to no out into the winter chill, my hand shaking as I gripped good. the key to the cemetery gate. I had taken the job of night As frightened as I was of the dark and anxious to get back watchman only out of necessity—it is not easy to feed a wife to the fireplace at home, I felt resolved that I should do and five children on the salary of a schoolmaster alone—but something to stop any tampering with sacred ground. Graspit was not until that night when I realized why volunteers for ing the pistol in my pocket, I stepped forward and called the job had been scarce. out, “Hey! Who goes there?”

The graveyard was utterly silent, and at first glance there The figure halted its work and slowly turned to face me. was nothing amiss. The gravestones stood perfectly at atten- It was then that I nearly lost all my senses, for where there tion like soldiers, their rounded heads peeking out of the icy should have been a face under the hood of the figure’s drifts, and the snow on the ground lay pristine before me, cloak there was nothing at all, only a black void. I realized its surface so perfectly smooth that I was sorry to disturb it that this was no human, but a specter of terrible strength. with my heavy tread. But there was Lifting a wizened hand from something peculiar about it all that under its cloak, it beckoned to I cannot describe. Whether it was some portentous feeling or my mind playing tricks on me I will never Lifting a wizened hand from under its cloak, it beckoned to me silently, and, as if obliged by some otherworldly power, I obeyed. As I drew closer, I saw know, but the air seemed heavy, pressing in on me as if a steamer me silently, and, as if obliged by that at the feet of the specter lay a pit about six feet square, trunk sat upon my chest. Don’t be some otherworldly power, quite large enough for a grave. nonsensical, I thought to myself. A man like yourself should be above I obeyed. I noticed, too, that around the specter were no footprints or childish fears. Taking a deep breath, disturbances in the snow at all, I forced myself to go on, walking along the perimeter of the yard. Z as if it had been merely blown in by the wind. Knowing that I now

I had just begun checking the gate dealt with a creature far wiser for any breaches when I heard a faint sound. It was a quiet than myself, I chose my next words with care. thumping, like metal against a woolen rug. I looked around “Now look here—I don’t know what you want with me, me, my heart pounding. That was when I saw it. By the old but I don’t want any trouble— “ gnarled oak tree in the westernmost corner of the cemetery I stopped, ashamed of my words as if I were one of my stood a dark figure silhouetted in the snow. It was perhaps pupils speaking out of turn. What could I say that would a hundred paces away or more, but I could just make out a sway the will of such a being? I looked into the faceless large shovel in the figure’s hands. Slowly and deliberately, hood and said, “I will do anything you require of me.” the figure raised its arms and skewered the ground with the The figure once again raised its hand and pointed at the tool, lifting up muddy mounds of dirt and snow. pit before him. I peered down into it and nearly fainted in

Now, I had only seen the gravedigger in the cemetery fright. Before that moment the pit had been pitch black, its once before. The nurse had told me his name—Parsons—and contents obscured by the moonless night. But now it burned that he had fought in my regiment at the Somme. I came fiercely, its red flames licking the snow. That was not the back with shell shock, and he with a missing leg. But surely worst of it, for among the flames lay a coffin, the lid cast this could not be the same Parsons. Who would want to be aside. It was then that I realized, this was my coffin, and this laboring at this late hour in such a dark and solitary place? specter, this monster was here to lead me to the grave! Oh,