A Moondance With the Dead

“In there?” Matty pointed through the black, spiked, iron gate.

“Yeah, why not?” Greg replied.

Matty looked across the graveyard, shrouded in a dense moonlit fog and a chill crawled up his spine. The sign above his head read “Garrison Cemetery” in a large gothic font.

“It ain’t Halloween for another couple of weeks!”

Greg began walking ahead looking for an open gate or a way in. They walked about 30 feet of fencing when Greg noticed a twisted, rusted bar. With a stiff shake, it popped out in his hand, leaving just enough room to sneak in.

“Open sesame,” Greg said with a grin.

“I don’t know man. I’d rather a bus shelter or something than this.”

“Exactly. That’s the idea.”

“I don’t follow,” Matty said with a puzzled brow.

“You and everyone else would rather sleep anywhere on earth than a graveyard. Therefore, there’s - ”

“There’s no one in here.” Matty finished his sentence.

“Bingo. A friend’s uncle once told me, half drunk at a party, that graveyards are the best places to sleep while travelling, especially when you’re low on cash or nowhere near a hotel.”

They looked down the long narrow street, periodically lit by street lamps. There was not a hotel in sight, only a few small homes lining the roads, guarded by apple, and oak trees. Soft light escaped behind closed curtains.

“Yeah well, someone once told me why there are fences around graveyards.”

“To keep hoodlums like us out?”

“Because people are dying to get in!”

“God damnit Matty.”

Matty raised a finger to his lips. “Shhh, not in God’s garden”.

The guys took their large backpacks off and squeezed through the cold steel fence. Once inside they had a look around, scanning the orange and red patchwork ground. Right in the middle of the cemetery, surrounded by a few small hills, was an ornate, stone tomb with its own set of cracked weathered steps and a mossy terra cotta roof. It probably belonged to some aristocrat or founding father, thought Matty. Lining the rows of headstones were massive, century old Gods, made of oak and time, stripped of their veils for another season. Through the fog it was hard to discern the length of the place, perhaps it went on forever.

“Anywhere tickle your fancy?” Greg asked.

“How about the backside of that tomb?”

Greg looked surprised. “Right in the middle of this field of death? If they all wake up, we’re surrounded man.”

“Good call. Maybe on the outskirts then?”

“But then we could be spotted from the outside and thrown in the drunk tank.”

“Oh god. You’re right. Jeeze, I don’t know then.”

Greg chuckled. “Lighten up dude. I’m good with the tomb. It can break any potential breeze, and provide something to lean on.”

Matty shot him a thumbs up.

A couple of hours later, the guys were sitting with their backs against the stone tomb, drinking lukewarm cans of beer in the absolute stillness of the night. Occasionally, with a whisper of a breeze, leaves would drift down like ghosts of Autumn and land on the soft earth below.

“Quiet eh?” Greg said.

“After the past couple of weeks of travelling city to city, it feels like we’re in another world,” Matty replied.

“Maybe we are.”

Greg grabbed two more cans of beer, which they cracked, clinked together and each sipped.

“I needed this.” Matty said.

“I know you did man. Glad I could be here.”

“Not just the trip, but this specifically. A quiet night amongst the tombs. I guess I need to get used to spending time in the graveyard.”

“Well, when you visit her you don’t need to spend the night.”

“I know, but I probably will sometimes. Especially now I know how calming it is”

Greg reached over and put a hand on Matty’s shoulder. “If you ever want company, I’ll gladly join you.”

“Thanks.”

“You got it. You’ve been through a lot. Remember, I’m always here.”

A car rounded a corner somewhere in the distance, spreading a hazy yellow glow through the night.

“I think that’s the first car we’ve seen in hours,” Greg said, following the light with his eyes. “Nice little town isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think I could get used to this. It’s funny you know. Eve wasn’t a fan of the city, she would have loved it in a place like this. Maybe not here, in some small town on the outskirts of Scotland, but at least in rural Ontario or Nova Scotia. But because of my work, it was the city life for us.”

“You can always move and take a part of her with you. Get out of the city for a while. Take a break.”

“Maybe I will. If the universe shows me a sign, I’ll pack my bags in a heartbeat.”

Just after 3 AM, Greg’s snores echoed through the cemetery. One snort was so loud it brought Matty out of his graveyard slumber and into consciousness. Lying there with his head on his knapsack he looked around, momentarily confused by his surroundings. Then the urge to pee hit him. Finally the beers had caught up. In a zombie-like fashion, he got to his feet and slowly staggered toward a massive oak tree, with its wooden tentacles reaching for Heaven. Just as he unzipped his fly, he heard something. A faint crackling of leaves in the distance. Matty’s ears perked up like a wolf. Was it an animal? A person? A ghost?

The whoosh and crackle of leaves was getting closer. Through the fog, Matty could not discern the source of the noise. It was all a ghostly haze.

His heart raced and chills shot from his stomach to his brainstem. His arms shook as  cold shivers took over. Then he slowly started backing toward Greg and the tomb. 

The wind picked up. Matty took a small knife from his pocket and carefully opened it.

“Greg,” he whispered aggressively behind him. 

No response. Just snores and wheezes.

The figure became more apparent through the dim of the night. It was no four legged animal. It was tall and slender, like a person.

As Matty backed up, it continued to seep from the fog like a ghostly extension of the grey. Arms slightly outreached.

Then music.

It couldn’t be music. Could it? Matty checked over his shoulder, Greg was still sleeping. Using his free, left hand he pulled his phone from his pocket, and to his surprise it was turned off. But the music became more clear and a little louder.

Matty shook his head. He thought he was still asleep. This can’t be real.

The song became crystal clear. It was a slowed down, acoustic version of Moondance, by Van Morrison. The one that played - “At our wedding”, Matty said aloud.

With that, the figure came forth from the fog like a ray of light, swaying to and fro to the music.

While still backing away, Matty’s heel came down on a stone and he slipped, landing on his elbows and back.

Then he saw her. It was Eve, in her wedding dress. It had short sleeves, and a deep v neck, and ran all the way to the ground. She was wrapped around some invisible being, slow dancing, exactly like the night of their wedding just over two years ago.

“Eve,” Matty gasped.

She kept dancing and paid no attention to Matty lying on the ground.

Matty watched in awe. Tears filled his tired eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

The dance was exactly how he remembered it, she was beautiful and moved with angelic grace. He could feel her now, almost as if she were in his arms. A warmth filled his body, his heartbeat slowed, and a feeling of euphoria spread across him like the summer sun. In a flash of soft white light, he momentarily left the cemetery and went somewhere he had never been. Weightless, he floated for what felt like an hour, surrounded by this love and warmth. The entire dance playing over and over, like a favorite record on repeat.

Then he was brought back to the floor of leaves on that cool autumn night. 

The song was just finishing and Eve’s movements slowed until she stood in one place holding the ghost of Matty. She looked so peaceful. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped onto the ground below. Then, whether it was intentional or not she looked directly at Matty, as he sat and stared from the ground.

Then she was gone.

Matty stayed in place for several minutes, wiping his eyes and peering into the fog, hoping for more. But that was it for tonight. He walked back to Greg and the tomb, and lay back down on his knapsack and closed his eyes. Sleep overtook him in seconds.

“Matty,” Greg said while giving him a light tap on the leg.

Matty’s eyes opened and he looked around. The sun was just starting to rise over the gated entrance. The fog had lifted and now one could make out the entire cemetery, except the regions hidden behind a few small hills. It wasn’t very big, maybe 100 feet long and almost that wide. 

“Morning,” Matty said.

“How was your sleep?” Greg asked.

Matty didn’t quite know how to answer. He looked off in the distance, hoping for another glimpse.

“I take it not great, like mine. Let’s go find some coffee and head home.”

“Yeah. Great idea.”

The guys threw on their backpacks, went out the hole in the fence, and started down the small street toward town.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Matty asked Greg.

“Sure. Makes life more exciting doesn’t it? Instead of just vanishing.”

“Fair enough.”

“You?”

“Yeah. I do.”

About thirty minutes later they came to the small town and found a coffee shop. Inside, they each ordered large coffees and bagels and took a seat at a round wooden table. On the wall behind them was a bulletin board. Greg eyed it for a minute, then pointed something out to Matty.

“Look at that.”

Matty looked up. There was a job ad for a local law firm seeking a lawyer with a business background.

“That’s a sign if I ever saw one bud. Right up your alley.”

Matty sipped his coffee. “Yes it is,” he said. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”