-Which is the more prosaic explanation? If prosaic means dull, I want that one, cause I just know the other's gonna keep me awake-
Not just anyone would appreciate a walk-and-talk in a graveyard at sundown, but I knew Set (Formerly the Scientist) would, just I like I knew she wouldn’t think it very adolescent-goth of me to suggest it. Truly, it would be a public service, chasing away all of those adolescent Goths who might have gathered there. If our presence made the casual stoner uncomfortable, so be it.
As long as there is light enough to read the inscriptions, and stones sufficiently new bearing still readable raised type, we two could scamper between the markers and read quotes, ages and histories, row by row.
Infant graves demand a SIDS-level pause for reflection, but my prosaic inner-demons tell me the grave of a nine-year-old is worse. Set agrees.
All in good fun until we find the grave with a beachball-sized hole. It is one of a pair of gravestones with women’s first names, but no last name, and the same symbol, what appeared at first to be a dollar sign with a third vertical line between the other two.
On the right, we found two smaller stones without any names, last or first, but with the same symbol. These smaller markers were horizontal and half-buried in the grass.
This added enough to the mystery for our party to squint into the hole and try to see past clumps of sod and roots, peeking in vain for a glimpse of coffinwood or hungry undead anatomy.
No good. Too dark.
Later we would spy “IHS” on another stone, prompting Set to remark that our mystery symbol was those three letters occupying the same space. I could not disagree, but clung to my zombie theory a moment longer.
If I remember correctly, IHS means Christ, but that shouldn’t sink my imagination. The way I see it, this godfearing Christian woman with no last name clawed her way out of death and sauntered down the street to acquire more lime for herself, her sister, and the two unnamed dogs that once sprouted from their purses and now rest beside the women in matching subterranean carpetbags.
She’ll probably be back soon, so we’d best be on our way. If you see her, tell her it’s never ok to keep dogs in handbags, despite some evidence to the contrary. Replenishing the lime, on the other hand, is essential.
As long as there is light enough to read the inscriptions, and stones sufficiently new bearing still readable raised type, we two could scamper between the markers and read quotes, ages and histories, row by row.
Infant graves demand a SIDS-level pause for reflection, but my prosaic inner-demons tell me the grave of a nine-year-old is worse. Set agrees.
All in good fun until we find the grave with a beachball-sized hole. It is one of a pair of gravestones with women’s first names, but no last name, and the same symbol, what appeared at first to be a dollar sign with a third vertical line between the other two.
On the right, we found two smaller stones without any names, last or first, but with the same symbol. These smaller markers were horizontal and half-buried in the grass.
This added enough to the mystery for our party to squint into the hole and try to see past clumps of sod and roots, peeking in vain for a glimpse of coffinwood or hungry undead anatomy.
No good. Too dark.
Later we would spy “IHS” on another stone, prompting Set to remark that our mystery symbol was those three letters occupying the same space. I could not disagree, but clung to my zombie theory a moment longer.
If I remember correctly, IHS means Christ, but that shouldn’t sink my imagination. The way I see it, this godfearing Christian woman with no last name clawed her way out of death and sauntered down the street to acquire more lime for herself, her sister, and the two unnamed dogs that once sprouted from their purses and now rest beside the women in matching subterranean carpetbags.
She’ll probably be back soon, so we’d best be on our way. If you see her, tell her it’s never ok to keep dogs in handbags, despite some evidence to the contrary. Replenishing the lime, on the other hand, is essential.
posted by Benedict | 11:33 AM
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