Resurrection(Rosie) I stood at the foot of the towering gates, clutching a rusted spade in one hand and a flickering lantern in the other. Everything was silent and deserted, all apart from a low moaning of the wind, which rippled chillingly over the rows of stone structures. Then it fell flat, and the silence justified the atmosphere. I lifted the latch and teased the gate a-jar. It yawned mournfully, as though it hadn’t moved a muscle in years. I slipped through, scanned the scene for the spot, and then cautiously made my way to her grave.

Resting against the edge was a bouquet of wilted roses. Caressing the engraved lettering of her name, tears began pooling as memories filtered throughout my mind of our precious life spent together. Her beautiful smile, her pleasant laugh, oh how I missed her dearly. Though anger soon overpowered my sorrow and I cried out desperately to the heavens, “Why, oh why, almighty god, must you do such a cruel thing to me? How could you have just watched whilst she suffered? Curse you, curse you!” Though gradually, my anger slowly faded and I fell to my knees. For many minutes, I remained motionless, even stiller than those buried deep in the ground. I reached for the spade, rose back on my feet, and began eating away into the earth.

Drunk with fatigue, I heaved away another helping of soil. I had formed a large pile, though it contained no more than a few writhing earth worms and fragments of dated pottery. But as I did so, my eye caught a sudden glimpse of an oak surface. They widened, as though I had just discovered buried treasure, and to me, that was so. Slowly, I eased open the lid, my fingers trembling. The shadow of it cast a dark covering over the contents, and then when it cleared, it revealed her slender corpse, peacefully positioned, as though resting.

I dropped the lantern, it smashed. Immediately, I was enveloped in almost complete darkness. The only source of dim light was that of the moon, which cast an illuminate glow of pearl on her face, enhancing her elegant features. Ever so carefully, I slipped my hands beneath her waist and gently eased her from the coffin. She was very frail, and couldn’t have weighed more than a small child, though one aspect of her which remained was her dazzling beauty. I gazed longingly at her, stroking her flowing locks. I kissed her ice cold forehead, inhaling the faint smell of perfume and a slight hint of musk. Then depositing her momentarily, I began erasing the evidence of my doings, ensuring that every sign of disturbance was concealed.

It was a work of pure art, not a single fault or blemish detectable to the naked eye. Work of a sheer genius! I smiled cunningly, for what had I to fear? Though, glancing back at where she lay; only emptiness remained.

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