Cemetery At Dusk

Cemetery At Dusk

by

William Kitcher


I tried to pass the cemetery but Sheba strained at her leash, dragging me inside. I tried to resist but she was too strong, and pulled me as the sun set behind the mausoleum.

She descended a hill and I staggered behind her. Her leash came out of my hand and she ran between gnarly trees.

I caught up with her. She was sitting next to a brand-new headstone.

Chiselled into it was my name and last Saturday’s date.

I shook uncontrollably and stared at it. A lump came to my throat and I cried again. “I miss you, Grandpa.”





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