The Groundskeeper

Lightning flashed in the dark sky, briefly sending a bright, white, blanket of light over the graveyard below. The graveyard was expansive, over the past few hundred years it had grown with every generation. Contained within, like layers to cake, were generations of the dead. Long ago this land was used as the sacred burial grounds for an ancient people, a people with whom the land made a sacred bond with thousands of years ago. As time went on the people changed and were forgotten. War, plague, famine and genocide rocked the people of the land and eventually the original inhabitants were completely replaced by those who are settled on it now. Those old burial grounds, deep in the earth, forgotten by man but not land. The land, eternal and timeless, remembered its promises. Thunder rolled over the graveyard acting as applause for the lighting a moment before.

 Below this brewing storm, in the corner of the yard sat an old disheveled shack. The groundskeepers shack. Dimly lit with only one lantern to illuminate the whole building, the lighting of the interior always felt like a winter dawn. However, it was lit enough to make out a desk, some gardening tools, a framed black and white picture of a woman smiling, and a hand carved wooden cross hanging above. Engraved on the cross was part of the verse Psalms 23:4 which read:

Even though I walk

through the darkest valley, a

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me

 The inside of the shack was also home to an old groundskeeper who had worked the night shift at this graveyard every year for the past 20 years. Never once taking a day off. This old creaky shack was more of a home to him than the small cabin in the town a mile south of here. Tonight had been a long night. Rain had fallen steadily on the roof and thunder and lightning, two things the groundskeeper despised, had been causing their heavenly havoc from the start of his shift late into the night with no signs of stopping. He wanted to go home, sit in his cabin where he could drown out the sounds of thunder, and not be subject to random drops of water falling from this leaky roof. He looked over at the picture of the woman on the desk and felt revitalized. He had made a promise 20 years ago. He did not intend on breaking it just because of some rain and thunder. He would stay and bear the brunt of this storm in his frail cabin as he had done in many previous storms before. 

Lightning flashed again followed by more thunder. This thunder was extraordinarily loud and it startled the old man. He got up from his desk and looked out the window. Thick clouds blotted out the light from stars and an absent moon left the clouds with no adversary for their dominion. If it wasn't for the weak lantern hanging from the ceiling of the shack and its light leaking out the windows and crevices in between the door and the doorframe nothing would have been known to exist here. 

The clouds rumbled and shook and within the sky there was a visible tension that could break at any moment. The groundskeeper shivered. He had never seen the weather act like this.

Suddenly, the tension was released and with the quickness of a whip a bolt of lighting shot out from the clouds and rocketed towards the ground. The sky became as bright as day and clung to the flash of light holding it, frozen for a startlingly long moment, connecting the heavens to the earth. The Groundskeeper grew worried. He reluctantly decided he must return to the safety of his cabin in town. He grabbed his rain jacket and threw it over himself. Then he took the framed picture of the woman, looked at it, and rubbed his thumb across the name that was written on it: Mary. He removed it from its frame, folded it gently and placed it within his pocket, ensuring that it was buttoned after he did so. He also grabbed the cross off the wall and put it into his jacket pocket, keeping hold of it and leaving his hand in his pocket. On his way out the cabin he grabbed his flashlight and said a quick prayer for safe travels and went out into the rain. As he walked, he felt as if the sky itself was pressing down on his shoulders. The air was thick and charged. It was a daunting walk.

Again lightning struck the earth, this time closer to where the man was walking. As it made contact, a loud crunching sound rang out. He stopped and looked to see where it had been and saw something strange. Walking over to where the lighting had struck, he neared a grave. He had cleaned and put flowers by it the night before, except no longer was there a visible headstone. The headstone had shattered and the top half had completely crumbled. He was sure that this is where the lightning had struck. But, lightning couldn't have done this. On the other hand, no kids would come to vandalize the grave in a storm like this! He brushed away some of the dirt. A flash of light appeared behind him, again accompanied with a crunching noise. The groundskeeper flinched. He touched the cross in his pocket and began walking back to the exit. Whatever was going on, he would deal with it tomorrow. Right now he needed to get out of this storm. 

Another massive bolt of lighting crashed into the earth, this one sending shockwaves of energy through the ground. The earth beneath the groundskeeper's feet seemed to ripple as energy ran through it. As he took a step forward and put his foot down, he stumbled and fell, rolling down into a shallow hole! In a matter of an instant the ground had recessed nearly 3 feet into the ground. The groundskeeper looked around, the earth appeared to be alive and writhing, full of the same energy that was building in the clouds. Frightened, he began to crawl his way out from the shallow hole. As he reached the top, the earth appeared to come alive. 

The ground had abandoned all concepts of gravity, physics and the laws of nature. It was moving smoothly. It rocked in massive waves, moving up and down as if it had suddenly taken on the properties of the ocean. The groundskeeper looked in awe. He didn't know what to do. He tried to take a step, but the ground moved from under him, he fell again, tumbling down into another hole. Before he could even process what had happened, the ground beneath the hole he was in returned in a quick motion, back to its original flat position, thrusting the old man a few feet into the air. He hit the ground hard, and rolled down a newly formed embankment before being thrown again back into the air. He clutched his hand over the right pocket of his undershirt, the pocket he had put the woman’s photo in. He could not lose that picture. He could not lose her. 

He continued to get thrashed around, tumbling through the air and earth. With a sudden heave he was shoved forward, slamming into an old mausoleum and slumping onto the ground. Then the earth evened itself out, and the land returned to normal. With no trace, other than Debbie’s smashed grave, that anything unusual had ever occurred here. 

The groundskeeper lay at the base of the mausoleum , dazed, and unmoving for a long time. He grunted and strained as he forced himself to sit upright against the cold surface of the mausoleum. He laid his head back against it and felt a crack in the side. He had cared for this mausoleum before, and had never known it to be damaged.

Realizing that the ground has ceased its movement he took a breath to calm himself. He was in disbelief. He looked to his shack in the distance and it stood, just as it had been when he left it a short while ago. Starting to question his own sanity, he reached behind him and traced the crack in the side of the mausoleum. The evidence was right here in front of him, yet he still had a hard time believing what happened. He tried to rationalize what had taken place. Could it have been an earthquake? Possibly it was a tornado, and the high speed of the winds tossed him about and distorted his perception. None of those made much sense to him but he gripped onto their possibility all the same.

He tapped his chest, feeling for the picture in his pocket. Once he knew it remained there he reached into his jacket pocket, checking for the cross. He was going to say a prayer of thanks for getting him through. His pocket was empty. He patted himself down frantically but he found no cross. His flashlight had disappeared as well and he had no source of light except for a small lighter he kept in his jean pocket. Giving up hope, and with adrenaline wearing off quickly, he sat back against the cold stone. He looked up into the sky and saw that it was still alive with an electric spirit. He tapped the picture in his chest pocket. “Oh, I wish you were here.” Then he prayed. Soon the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion fell upon him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Not long into the old man’s rest he was startled awake by the sound of splintering stone and thunder. Before he could open his eyes he was sprayed with small, jagged stones embedding themselves in his arms and face. Slicing right through his clothes and skin and cutting him. He stood up quickly, panicked and instinctively covered his face with his arm. The tension in the thick air could be felt as if it were physically there and the hairs on the groundskeepers neck stood straight up.

Lightning struck the earth, this time directly to the left of the man and again he was sprayed with jagged stone. He turned to his left and looked where the lightning had struck. He saw a shattered grave and rubble all over the ground. Within seconds more lightning struck a grave a few hundred feet away from him. He looked up into the sky and the composition of the clouds had changed. No longer were they so dark that they blotted out any light. In fact they now seemed to contain such an electric charge that they produced a faint, white glow that radiated from behind them. The whole land was colored in a melancholic gray.

Lightning began to break away from the clouds at an increasing pace. It cracked into headstones all throughout the graveyard. Head stone after headstone erupted in a geyser of stone and rubble, blanketing the whole area in a haze of violent stone. The groundskeeper turned and ran, lightning flashing down all around him, and stone slicing his arms, until he stumbled into the coverage of another mausoleum.

Sheltered from the storm, he took a deep breath. And looked out the entrance. Lighting was raining down on the graveyard with the frequency of a machine gun. Not a single grave would be left after this. At this thought the groundskeeper collapsed in the doorway of the mausoleum. He began to pray “My work….”he gestured to the graveyard “20 years and now it's gone” He started to cry and buried his face in his bloodied hands. ‘God please…” He cried for a long time, all the while praying and thinking of the woman whose picture was on his chest. Her grave was out there. He hoped God had spared it off this demolition.

The ground shook and the groundskeeper felt it start to slowly rock again. He clutched the walls of the mausoleum and stared out its doorway. He was stunned. The ground defied physics again and began to rock heavily, but this movement was not spread equally amongst the graveyard. No, the flow of the earth was centered around the groundskeeper shack! The earth around the shack swayed and its waves grew larger and more powerful until, directly beneath the shack, the earth ripped apart! Opening up a deep crevice that the shack tumbled into. The groundskeeper watched his home sink into the earth. He felt the picture of the woman in his pocket. The earth then began to open and close all across the graveyard. Devouring mausoleums, graves, fences, paths and anything else foreign to the native land. 

After what seemed like an eternity of devastation, the earth began to sew itself back together. The fissures that had opened all across the land began to reunite as if they were two sides of a zipper. The groundskeeper watched in awe. This was an act of God, equal to the parting of the dead seal for the Israelites.

He thought of the woman and was struck with fear. What had happened to her grave? He felt faint at the thought. Without thinking he stepped out from beneath the mausoleum and ran out into the rain. He was headed in the direction of her grave. Unable to see except for in brief flashes, he was basing his direction entirely off of his innate feel for the yard. He ran through the storm without abandon. Eventually growing weaker as he ran. 

His cuts began to sting and his ribs began to ache. His head rang and felt as if he had been speared right through his cranium. He was out of breath and his run quickly became a walk. Not now! His body was failing him but he had one thought. He needed to reach her grave. His left leg collapsed and he fell to one knee. He grunted loudly but got up again. He walked on, only getting a few steps before collapsing again. Still he continued. Another 100 feet passed before he collapsed, falling to his knees he was unable to rouse his legs again. He let out a wail of desperation. He clutched his hands together and thrust them towards the sky in prayer “No More!” He shouted hoarsely. “No More, please”. “Whatever your intent, spare me please.” Lightening continued to shoot from the sky, blanketing the land around the man is a flashing barrage. The groundskeeper remained kneeling, staring up into the sky with broken eyes  “ I AM STILL HERE!” He shouted. Tears now falling from his eyes. “ I AM HERE” 

He refused to move even as the ground shook with anger and the clouds rumbled and sent lightning flying towards him. Eventually he took his glare away from the sky and looked at the ground in front of him. A foot away sat a grave, partially shattered, but still mostly together. The old man reached out and touched it. He found the bottom of the grave in the darkness and felt for the description. With his finger he found the engraving of the first letter, then he traced the second letter. Hope began to build inside him. He traced the next two letters and it spelt Mary.. Excitement was bubbling inside him. This could be her! He reached out for the engraving of the last name but the lightning had shattered it. He collapsed in defeat. As he lay face down on the earth, he felt something in his pocket. His lighter! He jumped up and took it out of his pocket, protecting it as best he could from the rain with his hand. He lit it and a meager spark fought against the rain. He carefully brought the flame to the grave, he needed to read her birthday. Then he would know. The numbers came into view: May 18th. The rest was shattered away but he knew. He had made it! He laid his forehead against the remains of the grave and began to cry. “I love you!” The grave was cold. He wanted nothing else but to feel his wife’s warmth against him. To see her smile. Her smile would break this glare. Not even the frozen heart of God could resist melting at the sight of that. He kissed the grave, then lovingly cleaned it. Then he looked again at the sky and yelled. “20 years ago, when my wife was buried here, I promised to keep this place well, and keep the memories of those who are buried alive. My wife and everyone here was not to be forgotten. You have destroyed my wife’s grave!. You robbed me of my purpose! I …I am done” He traced the few remaining letters of his wife’s name with his hand and closed his eyes. This had all been too much for one old groundskeeper. The ground began to open around the groundskeeper. Creating a slope that lead to a deep hole, sucking the earth into it.

 As he slid in, part of him panicked and he was tempted to climb his way out. But he pushed that aside. What was there to climb out too. The graveyard was gone, his work shattered, and his wife was here beside him. He resisted the terror clawing its way through his chest and fought the frantic feeling in his arms and legs prompting him to move. He took a deep breath and held onto his wife's grave for comfort. He felt his feet leave the safety of dirt, and the animal within him panicked. In quick succession the rest of his body slipped to the end of the slope. Just before he fell he opened his eyes, gazed up into that hostile sky, let out a deep breath and then disappeared into the abyss. Gone, into the earth, with no trace left on earth. Just like forgotten graves.