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In Andrew Kreiss’ time at Oletus Manor, he has seen countless survivors enter through the main door with hope and determination in their eyes. He, however, first entered through a side entrance reserved for the staff, with only a shovel in his hands and an innate fear of starvation forcing him to accept the job.
He didn’t have much of a choice, seeing how his past actions at Laz Cemetery had rendered him penniless, but, more importantly, left him feeling dejected. The possibility of dying before acquiring enough finances to afford being buried at the Laz pained him a lot. Andrew thought that perhaps in death, if not during his time alive, he’d be deemed something else but a monster. That for once, people would find him deserving of that holy ground’s blessings. But to spend his eternity at Laz, he needed the money.
And so, the man’s hand bore the weight of his metal shovel as he dug into the soil once again. Some evenings, he’d lock himself up in a small shed next to the Manor’s main building and prepare the tombstones for the unlucky ‘slabs’ that arrived at his doorstep. Other times, he’d tend to those already resting in a makeshift graveyard. Obviously, the previous grave keeper, doubting there even was one, did not care much for the placement of the bodies or any aesthetic requirements that Andrew was familiar with from his time back at the Laz. There weren’t any benches, no pavements to maneuver around the graves without stepping on the deceased. In other words, if anyone were to visit this place to pay their respects, they’d easier find themselves confused, than they’d find their resting loved one.
That is, of course, if anyone even bothered to come around. As far as Andrew was concerned, there were no visitors, except for him.
Tonight, his job was to take care of the ‘slabs’ from the most recent game. Andrew did not concern himself with the experiments’ ordeal, even if he quickly figured out that something strange was happening at the Manor. He never mentioned it to anyone though, assuming the rest of the staff either reached their own conclusions or were deemed more trustworthy by their employer and were let in on the secret. Instead, he kept his head low. After all, the only thing he was paid to care about was burying the remains without accidentally misplacing the parts belonging to one ‘slab’ in another’s grave. Some days, it was a very hard task to accomplish. But today’s match ended rather quickly, without much brutality, which Andrew guessed from the intact state of the remains. He was also advised to deal with the burial as soon as possible, since the new guests have already arrived this morning. And who knew just how soon he’d need to take care of them too…
Andrew did not interact with any of the survivors. First, he’d hear them arrive with the haunting creak of the main gate as it opened, paving the way to the fate they were most likely doomed to meet. Because the shed he usually spent his time in had a single window with a view on the front gate, he’d always observe the new guests at the Manor’s entrance. It was a strange feeling to see them disappear inside knowing that most likely, the next time he sees them again would be in a bloodstained, cardboard coffin.
Andrew, finished with digging the hole, put one such coffin inside. Of course, he recognized the man. In fact, seeing him a few days ago had already given him ideas on what to write on his tombstone: “Fair winds and following seas” he figured, since the man’s clothes resembled that of a sailor. The only visible damage he had was a bruise on his head, long since dried up and swollen. A nice change from last week’s decapitated head of a young woman.
In moments like these, with dirt staining his clothes from hands to shoulders and sweat dripping down his forehead, Andrew was glad he never spoke to any of the participants. Not that he’d ever gather up the courage to do so. Heavens no! Guessing what horrors will await them soon enough, Andrew wanted to spare them the misery of holding a conversation with him or even laying eyes upon him. He might have done some bad things, things that others might even consider heinous, but Andrew was not cruel .
And so, he stuck to the shadows, only coming out when night befell the Manor and he wouldn’t risk being heard, seen or perceived in any other way by anyone.
Or, at least, that’s what his plan was.
Andrew’s mind was so focused on his daily ritual of burying bodies that he didn’t even notice a stranger’s presence behind him.
“May I ask what you are burying, sir?”
Andrew, as if he was a child again scared of a monster he heard from under his bed, simply froze. He did not recognize this voice. It was calm, though assertive; quiet, yet the words were enunciated with the craftsmanship of a poet. He, whoever he was, was confident in his questioning and Andrew, even though he was only doing his job, felt the weight of a thousand phantom crimes suddenly rest upon his shoulders.
“Those are corpses. Human ones. Yes?” The man spoke again, and Andrew trembled with both fear and anticipation. If only he was courageous enough to turn around and learn the man’s identity...
There was no need to. The man moved to stand at Andrew’s side on his own accord. The grave keeper really wished to feed his curiosity and peek at the man, but his hair was obstructing his face from seeing anything else but his shoes. He immediately noticed that they were pristinely clean. Definitely not like the staff’s.
“Um, sir… g-guests are not allowed to come here…”
“The burial spots are the length of an average human body.” The man continued, ignoring Andrew’s concerns. “Why are they so strangely placed apart? I cannot comprehend.”
“Ah…” It was one of the things that also caught Andrew’s attention upon arrival at the Manor. He always assumed that his predecessor was not as qualified for the job and didn’t have the same respect for the dead as him. “It wasn’t me… I had to work with what was already here…”.
“I see.” Even though the man spoke with a rather neutral tone, a hint of disappointment could be heard in his words. Talking to the guests was strictly prohibited and yet the grave keeper could not bring himself to cut the conversation short. He felt a sense of familiarity in the very few words they managed to share so far. This mutual disdain for the unmaintained graveyard left him intrigued by the stranger, irresistibly so. “It’s peculiar, though. The Manor’s owner decided to bury his relatives here instead of a cemetery and yet did not employ a grave digger qualified enough to do the job.”
Ah, yes. Immediately, Andrew’s quiet excitement turned into pity. Anyone who stumbles upon a cemetery on private property would immediately think the people who lie there are relatives, not victims. The man’s unawareness of the fact that he will probably follow the same fate only furthered Andrew’s discomfort. But, bound by his employment contract and the simple, human difficulty in telling others that they’re about to die, he clutched his shovel in silence.
“At least, not until now.” The man continued. “You seem to know how to handle a proper burial. I came here to reprimed whoever was responsible for this… mess, but I only found you. Innocent and trying his best. What’s your name, sir?”
The shovel in Andrew’s hands immediately turned a couple tons heavier. He suddenly felt like his entire life depended on him managing to stay afoot without making a fool of himself. Was he calm enough, interesting enough and normal enough to be talked to, complimented even? In his many years of involuntary isolation, he had grown used to people avoiding as much as muttering his name without an insult attached. And now, when faced with what seemed like a genuine desire to learn more about his life, he thought it a threat, joke or, at best, simply a polite gesture.
“I’m Aesop Carl, an embalmer.” The stranger spoke first, as if he somehow sensed Andrew’s inner battle between conditioned self-loathing and the quiet desire to finally be heard, not only seen. The grave keeper would’ve most likely let the silence overtake the conversation, if not for the other’s introduction. And so, he felt the need to repay.
“Andrew Kreiss…”
The name tasted foreign on Andrew’s mouth, as he had not introduced himself to new people in a very long time. A life spent in solitude had left him with irreparable cracks in his sense of identity. He rarely spoke to strangers who intended on remaining in his life, instead of disappearing after a fleeting moment (and mostly, such moments were spent on ridiculing him for being an outcast, both in behavior and appearance). Still, the name belonged to him and him only, and so, even though it felt borrowed, he clutched onto it, like a child searching for warmth within a mother’s embrace.
Andrew hoped that the stranger would not notice the discomfort that saying his name out loud caused. Oh, just what would Mr. Carl think of him if he knew? Over the years, Andrew has learned that the best way to discern what people thought of him was to look at their faces while conversing. That’s why he usually did not do it. He would rather live in uncertainty and not face the obvious fact that what the other person’s expression showed was most definitely disgust. He did not need any reminders. But… seeing how so far, the guest has been treating him with at least an illusion of respect, he risked looking up.
Not that it ended up helping in any way. What Andrew first noticed in the other’s appearance was a mask covering the lower half of the man’s face. Above it, a pair of eyes piercing into Andrew with an almost medical curiosity. It felt like Aesop’s intention was to discern his potential without immediately deeming him unworthy of being perceived, as most people did. It was enigmatic, making Andrew’s head dizzy with its weirdly calming… neutrality.
He quickly turned his gaze away from the eyes. Instead, he focused on Aesop’s posture. He was radiating elegance and a quiet, though very noticeable, sense of self confidence. His clothes were pristinely clean and freshly ironed, unlike Andrew’s: dirt stained and worn to the brink of their durability.
It appeared Andrew’s thorough analysis of the mysterious embalmer’s appearance made the man uncomfortable because he suddenly turned around. Or, perhaps, he has made up his mind and decided that after all, Andrew was not worth his attention.
“It was a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Kreiss.” Aesop took a last glance at Andrew, though the grave keeper did not notice, too focused on wondering what he did to scare the stranger away. Andrew gave up this search rather quickly After all, most people didn’t need any reason to abandon him, so why would Mr. Carl?
“Wait!-“ The sound of footsteps hitting the mud suddenly halted, along with Andrew’s heartbeat as the command left his mouth involuntarily. Why would he try to stop Aesop from walking away? It’s what he was used to: being abandoned either by choice or through death’s cruel pick. And yet, when it came to this man, his instincts screamed to defy this pitiful destiny. “T-thank you… Mr. Carl. I do try my best. As far as my resources let me, of course.”
“And what resources are those? Are you also the one to embalm the bodies?”
“Oh… no, sorry.” Andrew thought for a second just how much he can disclose without breaching his employment contact. A white lie was all he could muster up, just to keep the conversation going. “The Manor’s owner prefers… closed casket burials. Rather modest, too.”
They both looked at the grave Andrew had been working on. A simple tombstone made of stone, with an epitaph dug into it by hand rather clumsily. Right underneath it, a cardboard coffin still visible through specs of dirt.
“Cardboard… One would think a person living in such a grand mansion would pick at least a wooden one for the departure of their loved one… Were they on bad terms, perhaps?”
“I’m sorry… I wouldn’t know.” But Andrew did know. He just ‘dug his own grave’ with a lie about the bodies being relatives and not test subjects and now couldn’t get out of it. What a mess…
“A closed cardboard-casket burial in a cluttered backyard… How ignorant.” The disregard for the Manor’s owner’s actions could clearly be heard in the man’s words. Andrew shared it, with a simple nod. It didn’t go unnoticed by Aesop. In response, he kneeled next to Andrew. “Thank goodness the owner had the decency to leave flowers at the grave, at least.”
Ah, yes. The iris that Andrew placed atop the coffin. He didn’t have a chance to properly bury it beneath the dirt before Aesop caught him off guard. His nervousness around the man made him immediately forget about hiding the traces of his gentleness and the pity he held towards the anonymous ‘slabs’. And now, with the warmth of the kind stranger’s shoulder against his own as they both kneeled by the grave, there were a lot more things Andrew was starting to forget: his manners, his restraint towards feeble attempts at conversation and his usual secrecy around whatever he does.
“Ah, the irises… I grow them in the shed. I thought they’d look nice at the grave plus-… Uh, no. Never mind.” Maybe a fleeing interest in what he does was not enough to make Andrew disclose his entire life philosophy, after all. Unless…
“Hm? Plus, what? I’d like to hear.”
“You do?”
“Of course. Why irises?”
Although Aesop’s grey eyes did not lose their superficial indifference, they seemed especially focused on Andrew now that the two men were much closer. Indeed, Andrew got an impression that whatever he’d say, Aesop would listen to patiently without much judgment. The grave keeper, at this point practically starved for any sort of attention, took this mere hope of not being ridiculed as an invitation to continue.
“It’s because of a story my mom used to tell me when I was still a kid. In that story, the buried iris turns into a rainbow and carries the soul to heaven, no matter if the person managed to repent for their sins before death. It’s like a second chance to save them from eternal damnation, given by the living. We, while we’re still breathing, still have the power to change our destiny, and therefore, others’ too… I-it’s rather silly, I know, but-“
“But it’s a nice gesture, nonetheless.” With his pristinely white gloves, Aesop grabbed some dirt and started covering the remaining bits of the iris. “I do the same thing through my embalming, you see. I make sure that in their last moments, people are seen by the world the same way as when still alive. After all, death is but a step in life. Whatever caused their souls to abandon our world: accidents, murder or suicide - it should not determine how they’re remembered by their loved ones. My goal is to let the dead pass on with dignity when their time is due. And so is yours. Am I correct?”
Anyone else would’ve probably found the topic of their conversation rather disturbing, but there was something about the directiveness of Aesop’s words that made Andrew confident in his beliefs. He has long since given up on explaining to anyone the meaning behind the irises he buried with corpses. No matter how he phrased it, Andrew always sounded like a madman when trying to explain why honoring this lingering sense of humanity made a difference. But not to Aesop.
“Mr. Carl, I’m-“ Flattered? Touched? Glad that you’re the first one to hear my thoughts on death without judgment in the twenty-four years I’ve walked this earth? No, he wouldn’t dare to say such outrageous things out loud. “I’m surprised you share the same idea.”
“It would be impossible not to. You see, most people demand an open casket funeral in clothes their family provides specifically for the occasion. If they’re lucky enough to have a family to carry on their will, of course. Only then I come in. But you-“ He turned to Andrew. “You still try to do that even without embalming, through a simple gesture of burying irises along with the body. You act where I cannot reach. I respect that, Mr. Kreiss.”
Andrew, as if struck by lightning, couldn’t keep his eyes off Aesop’s face. He was worried that the man would take offense, but the embalmer’s gaze did not reveal any ill will against Andrew. Quite the opposite. If only Andrew would let himself acknowledge it, he’d notice a hint of genuine fondness beginning to form in Aesop’s otherwise emotionless gaze. But the grave keeper, unaccustomed to kindness, was still blind to it.
Before Andrew could attempt to find out Aesop’s true intentions hidden behind his neutral façade, a light turning on in one of the building’s windows interrupted them. A few seconds later, it turned off. One of the staff was probably just looking for something inside a dark room, without paying attention to the outside the building, but Andrew still felt caught red handed.
Andrew Kreiss was forbidden from talking to guests. That’s what his employment contract stated. But in the few minutes he spent talking with the embalmer, Andrew has already broken that and many other self-imposed laws that he’d been abiding by his entire life. He was too hideous to be a sight for sore eyes and so, he should keep to the shadows. He was too broken to be liked by someone and so, he shouldn’t even attempt.
And yet…
He’d never admit it, but Kreiss was starting to get greedy with thoughts of possibly becoming Aesop’s friend. And it scared him just as much as it thrilled him.
“I’m not supposed to be talking to guests…” Andrew said with a hint of regret that could have easily gone unnoticed, but not by someone as meticulous as Aesop.
“I see. Although, it seems like you want to continue. Am I correct?”
“I-it does?’’
“You would’ve let me walk away just now if that wasn’t the case. But you didn’t.”
“Ah… You’re right.” Andrew couldn’t argue with Aesop’s logic. The thought of exchanging more words excited him so much that he didn’t even know what topic of conversation to pick next. The silence grew heavy between them and without much else to do, Aesop stood up.
“I apologize if talking to me causes you any trouble. I’ll go now. I’d say, ‘until later’, but since that’s forbidden-“
With each word leaving Aesop’s mouth, Andrew’s heart grew heavier and heavier. He felt an opportunity slipping away from his grasp, like countless times before when he let others ignore him and walk away. It felt pathetic to crave talking to someone this passionately. It never happened before, and Andrew thought it never would. But now, even if just for a minute longer, just to feed his ridiculous fantasies about having friends, he’d give up on the safe, well-known patterns of abandonment just to let this moment last.
Andrew’s hands, dirty from not only the soil but also the burden of being alive, clutched Aesop’s wrist in pitiful desperation before he could walk away. A part of him that pleaded, no, demanded closeness with someone had been left starved for far too long. And now, faced with an opportunity to finally tame his shameful cravings, Andrew acted upon a whim. He immediately regretted it, but it was already too late. Andrew’s heart sunk when he noticed the surprise on Aesop’s face. “Oh no…” He thought, but his body refused to give up on letting go of the embalmer’s warmth. “I messed up again…”.
“Mr. Kreiss?”
He barely heard it. The gloves he wore did not prevent the faint warmth of Aesop’s wrist to permeate through. As soon as he felt it, the rest of the world disappeared and the only thing that mattered was this foreign, yet addictive warmth. A lot of things were missing in Andrew’s life: a roof of his own over his head; a family’s embrace to soothe his sorrows and food that saved his stomach from aching in hunger. But this … this was something entirely else. And now that he got a taste, he feared the possibility of losing it.
“T-the contract states that I am forbidden from talking to guests, but… the rules of the current game say that the participants should only contact each other through letters. And I know I am merely a part of the Manor’s staff but-“ Andrew dared looking up at Aesop’s face once again. Besides surprise, a similar desperation to his own could be seen. Whether that desperation stemmed from wanting to talk to him again or to get out of the grasp as soon as possible - that he couldn’t read. So, he bet it all on the former. “P-perhaps I could send you one?”
Aesop looked at the gloved fingers embracing his wrist. Unlike Andrew, he did not deem the clutch shameful in its desperation but thought it rather… brave. Not many people dared to touch him, let alone talk to the embalmer and he preferred it this way. But to think someone would initiate contact after such a brief exchange of beliefs? Aesop never thought he’d find such a situation as flattering as it was. And so, in shock, he couldn’t help but agree to this curious arrangement.
“Sure… I’d like that.” He muttered and Andrew took Aesop’s tone as a sign to let him go.
Both immediately regretted doing so, but neither said anything. Instead, they focused on taking in small aspects of the other’s appearance in case they only hear, not see each other ever again. In his analysis, Andrew wondered if perhaps seeing the entirety of Aesop’s face would enable him to discern his true intentions. If perhaps he, too, had reservations about this whole letter ordeal, which might as well end up being just a huge mistake. But Aesop, faced with a rare instance of Andrew uncovering his soul to another, noticed what even Kreiss himself had long forgotten about – he was not entirely beyond helping, as much as he had convinced himself to be.
The grave keeper’s pale pink eyes, though veiled by sorrow, shone with exhilaration akin to people who have discovered they don’t need to become Aesop’s clients after all. It happened a couple times. Some of the terminally ill patients, who had become hopeless under the burden of their seemingly unchanged fate, would reach out to Mr. Carl in advance. However, later they’d resign upon finding out there was a cure, and no need for a funeral, after all. In Andrew’s case, the cure to his lifelong ills was the promise of becoming someone’s friend. It was a noble role, but it did not come with as much responsibility as Andrew thought. And Aesop, from what he’d gathered so far about the shy grave keeper, was convinced that fitting it would come to him as easy as breathing.
“I’ll see you, then… O-or rather hear from you, I mean…”
“I’ll be waiting, Mr. Kreiss.” Andrew couldn’t know, but a very subtle smile formed underneath Aesop’s mask. “Goodnight.”
“G-goodnight, Mr. Carl.”
The grave keeper stood up from the ground in disbelief as he watched the man go. The warmth still lingered faintly on his palm for a moment, then disappeared completely along with Aesop’s silhouette on the horizon.
He couldn’t help but miss it already. Especially when he looked back at the ‘slab’ that he had just buried. Andrew realized that the dead man spent barely a week at the Manor and so, a question popped up in his mind: just how much time did he have to write his letters before he was left all alone once more?