Taken too soon

The fresh morning frost crunched under the boy’s feet as he strolled across the cemetery. Sharp daggers of light blinding him as they bounced off the glistening surface. He didn’t care, he was happy today. He always loved the winter sun, something about it seemed warmer than even the hottest day of summer, it was cosy. I miss that feeling the boy thought, reminiscing.

Snow was in the air; the sky, a fresh clean sheet of white, immaculate. The temperature turned up a notch despite the bitter frost. Your grandma would say she could feel it in her bones. The boy couldn’t.

I think I only managed to experience snow once. I must have been really young as the image is distant, blurred. But I remember the feeling of excitement; waking up to the blanket of white that draped the hills surrounding our house. What I would give to be back there again.

The house the boy lived in was modest, but the family grand in love. They didn’t deserve what happened. He would see them today though. Smiling, he unfolded from the arch his body was forming. They never forget my birthday. Just once a year the boy’s family would visit him, although he longed for it to be more often; but it wasn’t like he could just pick up the phone and invite them over. Plus it was hard for them, and in all honesty, it was the single yearly occasion they saw each other at all. Things had changed. But it was a tradition none of them would miss for anything.

He arrived at the grave. It’s looking a bit shabby, those flowers look like they died as long ago as I did. I suppose it has been a while since anyone bothered with it. He peered up at the old church clock. Early. He shrugged. I suppose it’s good to have a little time alone with your own grave every now and again, so they say. He flopped down onto the damp grass and with a finger, traced the letters on the crumbling headstone, ‘Klay William Johnston. Beloved son and brother. Taken too soon. Sleep tight little man.”

A shudder sweeps through him. It never got any less creepy.

“Happy Birthday, Klay.”

He would have been twenty today, the teenage years he never had, over now too. He had always dreamed of becoming a Red Arrow. He loved aeroplanes, helicopters, anything that could fly. I reckon I would have been well on my way to becoming a pilot now. I’d be soaring through those snow-filled clouds. It was kind of ironic, except he was still stuck firmly on earth drifting amongst the living. Certainly not floating in the clouds, barefoot in a tunic. The only plane I ever got to ‘fly’ was the one you put 50p in outside the shopping centre.

A woman carrying a huge bunch of fiery red flowers came into view in the distance, slogging along one of the paths that wound around the patches of grass-covered death.

“Mum!” Tissues out already, of course. I love to see her face, see how she’s doing, but it seems to only get worse rather than better; like you expect as time, and life moves on. “I wish I could talk to you mum, tell you I’m okay. Well, that ‘it’s’ okay. You can move on, be happy.” It had been ten years since his death, but the woman approaching the grave still looked like she had only recently experienced trauma. Her eyes were permanently puffy, her hair had long since turned grey and her face bore wrinkles far beyond a woman only in her early forties. She had not dealt with her son's death well. A shattered vase, no effort to be pieced back together.

Not even for the young boy following behind; looking equally as solemn as the woman, but his grief was for the day of computer games he’d had planned, that was, before his mum reminded him of his brother's birthday. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, he watched his feet shuffle along the ground, kicking clumps of ice here and there.

“Look at your son mum, the one that still has a life.” Klay pleaded. Barely a breath he'd taken when Klay had taken his last. The brothers barely knew each other; they were simply two strangers that shared the same DNA.

“You need to move on for his sake.” I wish so much you could hear me! “He doesn’t deserve this life of misery. Give him the life I never had, instead of forcing him to live in my gloomy shadow.”

The child cheered up slightly when he saw his dad emerge from a cluster of trees at the other side of the cemetery. Klay smiled too but noted the obvious and disappointing disparity between father and son. Approaching his dad, with such a desire to shake him, shake some sense into him.

“DAD! Stop wasting time you could have with your son. What I would give to be able to spend one more day with you.” The man shivered and pulled his thick coat tighter around him, turning to confirm he was alone.. He looked equally as tired and broken as their mother, but at least there was a hint of joy when he saw his son and the woman he clearly still loved drawing closer. Klay felt responsible for bringing them so much sadness, the guilt he felt weighed him down heavily. It was probably the reason he was still walking the earth. His family needed to move on; then maybe he could too.

“I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you’re like this, that you’ve grown apart. It’s my fault you’ve all fallen apart. I wish so much there was something I could do. He sauntered back to the grave, defeated.

“So where’s the twin then?” She’s normally here first, we usually have a pre-meeting. I get the real story of how things are before the ‘rents relay the rose-tinted version.

As children, the twins were inseparable, barely a word needed to be spoken for them to converse. If only I could talk to her now Klay thought. I’d talk some sense into that sister of mine that’s for sure. Tell her to stop screwing things up for herself and move on. I died, it’s time to get over it.

“I guess you guys still aren’t speaking? I wish you’d sort it out. You think it’s not as hard for her. Believe me, it’s just as hard; when you shared everything, shared a womb.” We were one person, divided into beings. She lost her other half. “Trust me, I know.” But at least I still get to see her sometimes, even if she doesn’t know I’m there.

As the three of them awkwardly converged around Klay’s place of rest, Klay smiled. Despite the sorry state of them all, he was always pleased to see them. He stroked his mum's hair.

“I love you mum.”

She almost dropped the flowers, her hands suddenly developing a tremor, as a surge of goosebumps forged themselves in the surface of her skin. Bending down, she placed them shakily against the headstone, wishing her son a happy birthday through a fog of icy breath

“I love you son.”

A few cumbersome words were spoken between the parents, whilst the child fiddled with the toggles of his hoodie, until they finally broached the subject of their daughter; who had still not arrived. Deathly fear was creeping over them both like a rash, you could see it in their already dark faces. The poor man was trying, feebly, to assure mum that she would be fine, as was Klay.

“She’s probably just stuck in traffic.” Both to no avail; the barely held together woman was in hysterics within seconds. A zombie awoken.

“You’d think she was still ten years old mum, chill out. She’ll be fine.” And now their arguing, great. Happy birthday to me.

The dispute was broken up swiftly however, by the sound of ringing, and after a few seconds of waiting for her ex-husband to answer his phone - much to Klay and his little brothers’ amusement - their mum fished her own phone out of her bag, turned her back and walked off to answer it.

Klay watched his dad breathe for what seemed like the first time since they arrived, but the tension promptly returned as the father and his youngest son made eye contact. Sharing an awkward smile - an obviously rare moment - they both returned their gaze to the sodden ground. The child then slumped down upon the headstone next to Klay. He trembled with a sudden chill, flipping up his hood.

Crouching down in front of them, their father placed a small red object next to the flowers.

“You would have been an amazing pilot son. Happy birthday.” Klay looked down to see the miniature Red Arrow plane sitting on his grave.

“Thanks dad! I love you.”

A loud smash breaks up the tender moment, all attention now drawn to their mum, still with her back to them. Though she was no longer on the phone; that seemed to be shattered into pieces, broken on the frosty ground...as was mum. A single shrill screech echos across the graveyard. A flock of crows scarper from their resting place in the nearby trees with a few squawks of irritation. Then deafening silence.

The child stands. He doesn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself, frozen, a statue of fear and confusion. What’s happened? Without thinking Klay puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry little man. I’m here. I’m sure everything’s okay.” I hope. Shuddering, his little brother tries to shake off the cold that abruptly bites him, releasing him from his trance. With chattering teeth and arms wrapped around himself, he edges his way over to his parents.

At that moment Klay finally spots his sister almost upon them, he hadn’t even seen her arrive. Neither had anyone else for that matter?

“I told you she’d be here guys.” Elated, Klay looks up at the familiar stranger staring through him; although he always pretended they were looking at him. Today it felt like she was? He had always been taller than his sister, but now the young woman stood before him towered over his still ten-year-old frame. He grinned at the sight of his missing twin.

“Alright sis.”

“Alright Klay” she replied.