Enigma of the Veil

“Excuse me Miss, pardon my trespass, but I can't help but notice your tears, and distress. Would you like to sit a while with me, take a load off? I’m an old man, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” 

The young lady froze, staring at me with big brown eyes. I could see her apprehension in the way she brought her coat to her chest, and furrowed her brow. Whether I was friendly or not, I was still a stranger. Patting the bench next to me, I said, 

“I understand, miss, if you don't trust me, and choose not to stay, but I’m only offering a human gesture of kindness. Besides, I could use the company while I wait for the three o'clock train. I like to sit and watch the city before crossing to the station.”

Wiping away tears, she surveyed her surroundings, checking that enough citizens were around to witness anything in the case of her demise. before sitting next to me with a sigh and a tremble.

I asked her, “Have you just come from the obvious?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m sorry Dear. I know the feeling. Tell me, is it fear or sadness?”

 Gripping the edge of the bench with her hands, she shook her head intently, black curls bouncing about her shoulders. Staring straight ahead she replied,

“Both.”

“Ahh, so you've seen them too? During your visit?”

She turned and looked at me with those brown saucer eyes. She was so pale, but I could see her pulse, fast beneath her skin. 

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Oh contraire Dear. Share with me your tale, and I’ll share mine.”

And so I listened, not speaking, only nodding, unfazed with her account, but sharing in her emotions, until it was my turn to speak.

 “I had been enjoying my walk that day. A bouquet of wildflowers in my hand, warm sun on my back, and a slight summer breeze upon my face. The savory scent of focaccia bread hung in the air, reminding me of my hunger and tempting me to alter my course. Picking up my pace, I scolded myself. 

“No Giuseppe, YOU LURCH! You’ll eat after you visit Maria!”

“I had rounded the corner, nearly to my destination, when an upbeat rhythm of horns and drums drew my attention. A couple of not so gentle men stumbled out of the club, yelling and shouting with raised fists, clearly drunk.”

“The thought of a cold ale that fine summer evening almost deterred my steps again, but knowing Maria was waiting for me put me back on my course. Yes Miss, a fine evening it was. That is, until my anguish set in.” 

“I rounded the last corner, then there I stood, looking down the stone corridor of the Cemetery of Staglieno. One balled fist at my side, the other trembling, my grip tight on the wildflowers. Sucking in my breath and puffing out my chest, I strode ahead.”

“The heels of my shoes echoed throughout the halls as I turned to left and then to the right, and still more with each step down the stone staircase until I reached my destination. Standing before her I mustered up the best smile I could, outstretched her favorite flowers to her and laid them upon the edge of the solid gray stone. Hello Maria. These are for you my amor.” 

Gasping and lifting her hand to her heart, the young woman exclaimed, 

“Oh my gosh. Sir, I am so sorry that you have lost your wife!” She wiped the last of her tears, looked at me with a different sadness in her eyes, and asked me, 

“How long?”

“Too long.”

She kicked the pebbles beneath our bench, and nodded in agreement.

“Hmmmph. It's only been one week since my mother.”

“I'm sorry Dear, it gets easier…. some days.”

I continued. 

 “I promised her I would visit her every Friday, just as when I was courting her. Promises were always easy for me to keep. I’m true to my word. I believe in being faithful, not only to my dear departed Maria, but to the Lord. He gives me the strength to keep returning, because without his power within my heart and the love that I have for her, I couldn't come back each week.”

 “ Yet, I tell you in all things holy, I have never seen such a sight as I did on that first visit. Just like you, I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to see them, hear them. I believe your account Dear.”

I could see her shoulders relax a bit as she leaned back onto the bench. Crossing her arms and looking to me, 

“I thought I was crazy, or making things up so that I didn't have to visit her there. What did they say to you? What did they do? What did you see?”

“Ahh, I was just getting to that, but I might add that not all of them reside there. Some are where they should be.”

I took a deep breath, and adjusted my hat. 

“Well, at first, I didn't see them. I heard them. Voices were quiet and hushed, whispers almost, like old church ladies gossiping. But the further I walked the louder they got. It was like a constant buzzing. Almost as if you were sitting outside of a men's card game full of ruckus. I heard their laughter, their jeers, and yes, their moans too.”

The young lady shivered. 

“At first, I thought I was among some young hoodlums or pranksters, but I saw no one. I considered the possibility of the homeless, but I knew that security was tough around these blocks.”

She shifted in her seat again, rolling her eyes and she stated, “ Hmmmph, yea. was…”  

“Anyway, I shrugged it off. I had reached Maria's tomb, presented her the flowers and sat upon the cold floor. I hugged my knees, and tried to talk to her. I had so much to say, but nothing sensible came out,.... only that I missed her scones. And then I wept. I rocked back and forth, and I wept.”

The young lady surprised me and moved a little closer. She reached for my hand, but I was not comfortable with the gesture, so I adjusted my tie and cleared my throat. 

“I’m so sorry. It must be hard.”

 I waved it off, “I’m a tough old man.” 

“As I wept, I felt shame. I was a man. I must accept that the Lord had taken her home. He had a reason, and I too, should have, … well…. reason. “

The young girl nodded her head in agreement, “That checks out.”

I chuckled at the way this generation spoke.

“Anyway, any reason I had gained quickly vanished from my thoughts when I witnessed with my own two eyes, the famous statue of the mourning girl…. move, look directly at me and say,

“Don't cry good sir, My mother held her hand at the crossing.” 

“Wide eyed and in disbelief I grabbed my cheeks and shook my head all about. I quickly tried to stand, stumbling all the while. Then the next one spoke. This time a voice from behind me, …a woman’s voice.”

“He misses her scones! Did ya hear that Charlie?”

A deep bellow of laughter followed. 

“He misses her scones? More like he misses her bones!”

“Followed by more belly laughing, and ..”

“Charlie! Have some mercy on this soul. He just lost his wife. Unlike you and I, they are no longer together.”

With sarcasm in his voice the entity replied,

“Ahh, yes. Together in eternity dear.”

“I dared not move, But then I heard a scraping sound off to the left. Like the sound of something being dragged or pushed across the concrete. I couldn't help but react as any human would and I looked toward the sound. “

The young lady, again with those big brown saucers, looked directly into my own eyes and with anticipation asked, 

“What was it?”

“It was one of the many majestic statues, an angel, wings down, lurching forward with great effort. She slowly marched ahead, making her way to an extremely small crypt. She looked at me then, lifted her finger to her lips and signed, “SHHHH” 

I knew the tiny crypt to be Mrs. Bonadelli’s Six month old son lost earlier that year to tuberculosis.”

The young lady moved to the edge of the bench, tilted her head, squinted her eyes, and asked, “TB? … Why, … but they…. The statue what?...”

“Yes. I nodded, and through the years I've seen even worse. Like you, I saw the dog too, when he lunged at me snarling and ready to attack, I feared my death! I was about to piss myself, then he was gone just as fast. I have yet to find to whom he belonged, unfriendly as he is, I don't know if he protects his master's tomb, or if he met his maker on the grounds as a stray.”

She leaned onto her knees, rocking gently.

“Maybe a Hell Hound…. It’s not the first entity I’ve seen.”

Perplexed as I was, I chose not to confirm my suspicions with her, and continued. 

“I thought if I changed the time of day I visited, maybe the sightings would stop. I used to visit her near sunset, just as I had when Maria and I were dating. It was her favorite time of day. But so far, there's no difference. Considering the level of activity I see at normal hours, I dare not ever approach the gates in the witching hour.”

The girl was only half on the bench then. She lowered her brows and shook her head in disagreement.  

“NO. That's like, three A.M. The gates are locked then. That's when assholes that call themselves hunters or whisperers break in and vandalize things or record off camera voices and make fake noises for the sake of their YouTube channels.” 

Then it was myself who looked confused. “YouTube channels? What are…”

Again, I waved my hand in dismissal. “It's not important. In my day, the gates were open all hours for loved ones to pay their respects. It's just how things were.”

“In your Day?”

“Yes.”

The young girl looked like she was analyzing something, and slowly slid back onto the bench. She moved a little further away then, and I noticed her giving me a sideways glance before folding her arms. We sat in silence for a few moments before she inquired, 

“Why us? Can others see them too, and hear them?”

I leaned forward and pulled my watch from my lapel pocket. A sudden rush of anxiety overtook me as I discovered the time had really gotten away from me. The bus was to arrive just two minutes from now, just as it had every time, the same time, for years.

 However, I wished not to dishearten nor frighten this already shaken and grieving young woman. She looked as though she could have been a granddaughter of Maria and I, if only we could have had children before…

I stood and regained my composure, then bowed and tipped my hat at the young woman. I told her, 

“Many can see. Many do believe, but the veil for them is murky and they are happy to leave it that way. Whether it be for the sake of their egos, or fear of religious or familial retaliation, I do not know.”

“Many cannot see. They’ve closed off their hearts and neglected their inner child to anything that cannot be explained, and no longer hold any creativity within their minds. The veil for them is as thick as a black velvet blindfold.”

 “For some of us, like you and I, the veil is very thin. We may not completely understand its existence or inner workings, I certainly have not figured it out myself. My, how many times I have tried to change things…… but we dance with it, like the waltz of the wind and the trees.”

I checked my pocket watch once more. Growing ever so nervous once again, I knew that what was to come would make or break this young woman, but there was no stopping it. I spoke my last words to her.

 “Just be cautious with how you choose to dance with that veil. At times, even the trees can break against the wind.”

With that, I turned as hastily as I always had, stepped out into the street without looking, and was struck yet again, by the bus that killed me back in 1945.