All Souls’ Day

It was All Souls Day. A treacherous icy wind whistled around my ears and freezing rain trickled down my collar as I walked to the graveyard to visit my wife’s grave. It was still early in the afternoon but darkness was already enveloping me, magnifying natural sounds till they became unrecognisable. A crow cawing in the ancient yew tree sounded malicious and sinister, the distant scrabbling of small animals in the undergrowth took on an eerie insistent clamour as if there were creatures burrowing their way out of the soil. The harsh bark of a distant fox sounded like a human in pain.

I am getting spooked I told myself. It was a quiet cemetery and my mind was playing tricks with me, conjuring up things that were not there.

I turned up my collar against the screeching wind and bent down to read the inscriptions on the gravestones. I thought about the people who laid there, long dead most of them from a time beyond memory. How strange they would find this ceaselessly busy world.

I usually liked coming up here. In the sunshine it was tranquil and you could imagine that the dead were sleeping peacefully beneath their grassy mounds, but today with the wind rattling the few leaves that remained on the trees, and twilight encroaching, it felt unfriendly and threatening.

I straightened up and headed towards a corner of the silent graveyard. The wind blew harder and hailstones pattered against the stones. I was mad to be here on a day like this, when no man or creature stirred from his fireside or warm nest. Why had I come? Because I couldn’t stay away, not today of all days.

The grave looked unkempt, uncared for. It had been months since I last visited. But today I felt impelled to be here.

I felt a black depression settle around my shoulders like a heavy wet blanket. I almost sank to the ground, such was the weight of sorrow that came over me. I threw myself onto my knees at the graveside and sobbed noisily.

I felt rather than heard a whisper. It slipped like a silver sibilance into my mind. It was her, my dear dead love, coming to me on this day of remembrance, The anniversary of her death. She breathed softly, her words echoing in my brain like a wraith swirling and twisting.
“How many times did I tell you to fix that bloody stair carpet” she shrieked