It seemed as though he’d been watching them for eons from far beyond the confines of the endless graveyard that had become his eternal prison. And still his silent cold stare continued to gaze upon the world of the living as though some part of what remained of him longed for a taste of a life that had long since past. Until on the night of the full moon the voice of Pelon would come to him, through the mist that swirled around his headstone.

“Why Astor?” he inquired. “Why do you continue to do this to yourself? .. To spend this night here watching the world of the living go about its business, it is folly Astor.. You are no longer alive.. And yet you tirelessly watch them, with as much contempt and animosity as you can muster. And for what? Your anger with this living world is misplaced. You Astor, have been dead for over two hundred years.. And still you refuse to pass into the veil. Clinging to what? The life that you lived is nothing more than a memory, nothing more can be gained by your presence here, do not torment yourself with these foolish ponderings of a world that you are no longer a part of.”

His head turned towards Pelon, his head and nothing more. his cold stare now focused fully on the apparition. In a throaty gruff voice Astor addressed him.
“Do not concern yourself with my ponderings Pelon. I am full aware of what I have become and for how long I have been here.
Go now.. Into your precious night.. Leave me to such ponderings as I may have of this living world. They are, as am I, of no great consequence to you.”
And as Pelon left him to his Ponderings sitting alone perched on his own headstone, Astor’s thoughts began to slowly drift to life of another time. His life.. But alas, such memories were as old as dust upon a book, and he no longer had a mind to summon them.

And so he did as Ghosts, spirits and specters often do when they refuse to believe that they are no longer of use to the living. He waited he plotted and he schemed and he waited for the opportunity to show someone in this living realm that he may very well still have some remnants of life left in him. He silently prepared himself for a haunting. A haunting, yes it seemed the only way Astor could prove to himself and everything beyond the Endless Graveyard, that he even though very much dead, would no longer allow his presence to be ignored.



He sat until he saw the first rays of light of the new morning began to make their way through the leaves of the tree tops that surrounded the Endless Graveyard. He pulled himself further into the shadows as if the light would scorn and burn flesh that no longer existed. So from it he hid in the shadows. But soon sounds came to him, from beyond the front gate of the Graveyards fence, out and into the empty street, sounds echoing of children’s laughter. But not laughter that echoed itself into the graveyard in a happy way. This was a tormenting laughter that drew Astor out in the open closer to the fence.

It was there beneath the weeping willow tree that he peered into the street to see three older boys tormenting a young girl. Much smaller than them she was.. They had a ball that they were keeping away from her, and try as she might the brave young child could not get it back from the older larger children.
“You want your ball back little girl?” One of them taunted her. “Then go get it!”
And with all of his strength the large boy threw the ball high into the air. And it was heading right for the Endless Graveyard .

He curiously watched as it slowly rolled towards him and came to rest at his feet. Out past the fence he could hear the cackling of the three boys as they made their way down the street, but what happened next took Astor by complete surprise. When the form of the little girl appeared through the gate of the Endless Graveyard. She made her way slow but steadily through the shadows looking for her precious ball, until she came to within twenty feet of him. He hid and watched her bend down to pick it up . She looked around, but it wasn’t a fearful look that crossed her young face. But the look of childlike wonder at what lie beyond the shadows of this dark place. She knew that she was not alone here, and more curiously.. Astor somehow knew that she wasn’t afraid.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2007.