The Dark

When the Dark came, the small, thriving farm town of Cemetery Ridge, way out in the flatlands with the best mushrooms around, could not understand what it meant. The town was a small collection of two-story old red brick buildings with a Main Street and charming houses all going back a few blocks. Two churches, one school with all the grades. An organic grocery store toward the edge of town. And a couple of places to get your hair cut. One for women, one for men. The mushrooms grew everywhere, all year round. Oysters and Shitake, Maitake and Bellas. Most every kind you could want. No poisonous ones, though. The townsfolk scooped them up in baskets and loaded the daily truck to the city. Out went the mushrooms, and in came the cash. Life was small and upscale, and pleasant in Cemetery Ridge.

The cemetery sat just outside town up on a ridge and had been there before the town. The names on the tombstones were not known by anybody alive in town now. The peculiar thing was that all the stones had the same date. A name and February 20, crudely carved, as if in a hurry. No one knew why so many died all at once. Maybe it was the flu.

The cemetery was the biggest single thing in town, most folks said. Overgrown mostly, most of the hundreds of tombstones had fallen over from the neglect that occurs when no kin are around, and the cemetery keeper never leaves his cottage. A few big oak trees erupted decades ago from the fertile soil below. Some of the tastiest mushrooms grew in the cemetery, nourished on ancient, rotting soil, harvested daily along with the rest of the town's bounty. Adults didn't like picking in the cemetery, so families rotated the responsibility. But, for the kids, it was always a fun place to play, especially at twilight, with long shadows and good hiding spots. The cemetery keeper kept to himself in his little house in a stand of pine trees on the North of the cemetery and let the children play. 

When the Dark started, only the kids playing in the cemetery noticed. They told their parents, but as most busy adults are apt to do, they didn't listen. The parents said that it was just a summer storm coming or maybe smoke from a distant fire over the ridge. But the kids played up there every day, and they knew better. They knew the Dark wasn't something from the world above ground. The normal world.

Hanley Mondo seemed to describe it the best. "The Dark just come out of the ground from those graves. Little pieces of dark just floated up into the sky until the sky was dark all over. Not over the town but over the cemetery. Those little pieces were like little bitty gnats, millions of them. I tried to catch some in my mouth, but they swooshed away every time. Couldn't touch them either. Or catch them in your hand like lightning bugs. Those little dark pieces were too clever. They flew away above your head and hung just out of reach."

Hanley's brother, Jeb, was eight, and his friend Monroe was nine. Hanley was the oldest at ten. She was a head taller than either of the boys. The three kids climbed up on top of the biggest crypt and lay there to watch the Dark. They fell asleep and night set upon the cemetery and the town. Hours later, the frantic parents made their way up to the cemetery with lanterns, calling for the three. They searched everywhere. Mr. Mondo thought they should look up on top of the crypts. No luck. No kids up there.

Hanley dreamed that she was flying up into a dark cloud. No light, just the sensation of wind. Or she thought it was a dream. Jeb and Monroe held tightly to her hands; at least, that's what the dream felt like if this was a dream. Hanley couldn't be sure. Up, up they went higher, higher into the air where oxygen was thin, and breathing was difficult. The Dark carried them that high. When Hanley thought she was dying, the Dark brought them back down, fast. Like falling but not quite. She could feel Jeb and Monroe, but she couldn't see them. She couldn't see anything. Just feel the falling.

Mr. Mondo's voice was hoarse from calling for the kids. Mrs. Mondo was just silent. They feared the worst. Other townspeople came to help, and the Reverend prayed over by the big crypt. Even though it was nightfall, the parents and townspeople began to see the Dark. The Dark concealed the stars and the moon, a full moon. And the Dark was just over the cemetery. A large cemetery, to be sure, but they could see down in the town that the moon was casting its fullness over the houses, interrupted by the occasional cloud. Yes, the Dark was just over the cemetery.

"Reverend, do you think the Darkness over the cemetery means anything?" Mr. Mondo innocently asked.

"Mr. Mondo, it does. It means something ominous. Something evil. But what exactly is beyond me," the Reverend answered in a calm, almost whispered voice. The other townsfolk were wandering around the cemetery calling for the kids, and voices were hoarsening.

"Mr. Mondo, those kids of yours, how long had they been gone, and are you sure they were up here at the cemetery?" the Sheriff asked out of bafflement.

"Sheriff, they were up here an hour, maybe two. And it's where they always come, particularly at the end of the day. A morbid fascination, they have." Mr. Mondo said with a touch of guilt. Maybe if he had come with them, this wouldn't have happened.

The Sheriff shook his head and patted Mr. Mondo on the shoulder. The Darkness was saturating now, and even the white granite tombstones were hard to see. The Sheriff flicked the switch on his special long-distance flashlight, powered to yield a beam for a quarter of a mile. But, as he swung it from side to side, the Dark swallowed the light beam. Only about three feet in front of him was illuminated. Now, he couldn't see the other townspeople, only hear their hoarsening voices. After a while, those voices became softer and then silent.

Mr. Mondo and the Sheriff walked through the thickness of the Dark to find the cemetery keeper's house, touching the tombstones along the way to avoid becoming lost. Three knocks before he answered, and then he only opened the door slightly. They could see the light from within but not him.

"Mr. Polk, Sheriff Adams here. I need to ask you some questions. Can we come in?"

The door opened more, and the two men entered. Elijah Polk, the cemetery keeper, stood back in a darkened corner of the cottage. The fireplace was bright and warm, and two old chairs beckoned the men forward. They sat, and Elijah continued to stand in the corner in the dark.

"Mr. Polk, there were some kids up here this evening, and now they are gone. Know anything about that?"

"Kids come up here all the time. I hear them out there playing. But I don't know where they went. Maybe they walked up over the ridge?" Mr. Polk replied.

"What about the Darkness? What do you know about that?" Mr. Mondo asked.

"It's very ancient. The Darkness is ancient. At least that's what I was told long ago," Mr. Polk replied.

"So, you know about this Darkness? Is it real?" Mr. Mondo asked.

"Like death. Yes, it's real. It's been over a hundred years since it came. It's when we filled the cemetery back then."

Sheriff Adams and Mr. Mondo stared at Elijah for a few moments without saying anything. They weren't sure what Elijah meant.

"Over a hundred years? What are you talking about?" Sheriff Adams asked.

"I was here. I know that is an inconvenient fact for you, but it is true. I was the last one, hand-selected by the last cemetery keeper. I had to live all these years without an actual life. I was committed to staying with the cemetery until the Dark returned. Now I am tired and ready to have my cold, dark grave so I can move on. I don't have the next keeper selected yet."

Sheriff Adams and Mr. Mondo sat motionless, contemplating what Elijah told them. Neither man knew what to say.

"Mr. Mondo, your son, Billy, is just the right age, 19. And he isn't married, is he?"

Elijah asked. Mondo looked at Elijah with a vacant stare, not knowing how to respond. Finally, he mustered a few words.

"No. Billy is not married," Mr. Mondo responded.

"Good. Everyone will need graves and burial before the Dark finishes, but Billy will get to continue your line for at least a hundred years. I will train him well before I depart. Now your other kids took excellent spots in the empty crypt down on the south end. I was able to finish it before the Dark returned, you know." Elijah stepped from the shadows with a toothy, broad smile. "I got me a spot in that crypt too. I will say hello to them for you!"

Little Hanley Mondo's corpse lay on the marble slab inside the new crypt Elijah built. Still holding hands with Jeb and Monroe, Hanley's motionless body yielded her spirit to the next world. Outside the crypt, mushrooms began to emerge around the crypt. Tasty morels, mostly buried, wouldn't be seen or tasted until the next migration to Cemetery Ridge.

Until then, Billy Mondo would grieve and ask why he had been dealt such wickedness. And lament his initial loneliness. But, as Elijah would instruct him, he would dig the graves, bury the townspeople and plant the tombstones that Elijah had already fashioned. Eventually, Billy would come to relish his mushrooms as he awaited new immigrants to fill the empty town of Cemetery Ridge. And he would long for the next coming of the Dark when he could fly away to join his family from long before.