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A thunder struck, and heavy rain poured onto the dense soil of the steep hill, littered with stone graves. Around the hill were trees as far as the eye could see; the closer they got, the fewer leaves they had. At the top of the hill stood a tall statue that overlooked all the inferior stones surrounding it.
“Gone but not Forgotten” were the words etched into the bottom of the statue. It was beautifully carved, but unfortunately, due to unknown events or the erosion from frequent storms, its head broke off and rolled into the bottom of the hill. Nobody knew when it happened, but there were still tracks of it rolling down the hill, and the head was still sitting at the bottom, no longer hoping for help. The top of the statue had smoothed down, and there had been no chance for recovery.
in front of this statue, a pale hand stained with dirt reached out to caress the words written into the stone. Those hands led to a woman drenched in sweat and rainwater, her red and black hair sticking to her face, and her trench coat clinging to her arms. Even though it was midnight, she had no flashlight. In fact, she had no safety from the thunder and rain either, not counting the trench coat over her clothes. Even though everything was against her, she wouldn't let a single event hold her back from what she came here for.
She stabbed a metal shovel into the wet dirt, letting it lean on the statue. She fell to her knees, the dirt clinging to her skirt. She closed her eyes, letting go of her sense of sight. Running her fingers through the words, she started whispering words of prayer.
The rain still poured. It hit the dirt harshly, and she felt each droplet hit her. She smelled of rancid sweat and dirt, like she’d been busy all day. chills ran down her spine, be it from the paranormal or an incoming sickness. she let herself feel every atom of the rough rock beneath her touch.
“Gone but not Forgotten.”
Did that phrase even hold up anymore? It had seemed to her that everyone had forgotten… what, or who, she was looking for…
Behind her were dirt piles of messily filled holes, as if she had dug up every grave and desperately tried filling them back up once she had not found what she needed.
The visions flooded her mind. Who was she looking for… could she even remember their face anymore? it just seemed like a collage of all the people she had seen in her life.
Thunder struck again. She kept thinking, racking her brain for any trace of what she could remember of her person. their hair… their body... their face…
Nothing reached her.
“Damnit! Who are you?!”
She punched the stone statue in anger, immediately facing the repercussions of it, pulling back her hand.
She curled up into herself, laying her head on the rock and putting her injured hand in between her thighs for pressure. She gripped the shovel she had once drawn into the ground, transferring her body’s weight to that hand.
She cried. She felt like she could cry all night. Images of the media flashed in her head. She would never be able to find him-- Him? Was that a new memory..? She couldn't tell anymore. She lay on the dirt and closed her eyes again. Tomorrow morning, she would have to pretend nothing happened, like always. She would have to go back to church and classes and repeat this routine forever. She would research for hours on end, hoping to remember her goal, but to no avail. The only time she ever felt close to her goal was in this cemetery, miles away from the church, in fact, miles away from anything. Her bike was probably waterlogged by now. It was useless. Everything was useless. The only thing that made her comfortable was the crowd of stones and corpses. Maybe one of those bodies would be the answer she was searching for all this time. The pale, cold, lifeless bodies… that would be her one day… she was so scared. Was that the current condition of what she was looking for? She’d been desensitized to the dead people that had been dug up by her shovel, her hands.
But alas, she had a life apart from this aching memory and would need to wake up early for her classes today. She stumbled to stand up and picked up her shovel, putting it in its bag and throwing it over her shoulders. She wiped her hands on her coat and wiped her face. She cleared her bangs away from her eyes and limped back to the metal gates of the cemetery. This will have to wait another day… she thought as she propped herself back up on her bike and rode through the trees and grass, getting farther away from the haunted graveyard, and letting another day escape her grasp with no trace of what she came for.