Bring Out Your Dead
“My sweet boy. My sweet, sweet, boy. How will I ever live without you? You were always the most loving child. No mother could have asked for a kinder, better behaved little boy. I remember the first time you put your tiny arms around my neck and told me that you loved me. Your father and I were so proud. How much we loved you.
And later, your father gone from us, you pulled yourself up to your full height and declared that you were the man of the house, now, and would take care of us both. And you, barely eleven, but I believed you. There is no man in the house, now.
So talented you were. Always writing down your thoughts into your beautiful poems. One day you would have been another Shelley, another Wordsworth. Such loveliness, gone from our world. They will never see it, but I will keep your words in my heart.
I miss you, my son, so much already. I do not think that I can get through another day. So young your father was, and now you even younger. My two brave men, too wonderful for this world. I do not know why God could not have called me, too.”
“Mrs. Stanhope?” The young woman placed her hand on her elder’s shoulder. “I am so very sorry for your loss.”
“Cecily.” She rose from the graveside and stood beside the raven-haired beauty. “My William was very fond of you. Thank you for coming.”
“I know. He told me. That night before he…” Cecily broke down in tears.
“There, there, child.” The woman took Cecily’s hands in hers. “You must come and visit me soon. We have a bond now.”
The younger woman turned her face away, unable to meet the elder’s gaze. “I will come.”
Two men chatted in the graveyard. “We were discussing it at the party, that very night. The disappearances and murders. He said it should be left to the police. It proves one mustn’t tempt fate.”
“True,” the other said. “And I can’t say that I’ll miss him, or his poetry. Still, quite a shock when it’s one of our circle, and not some transient.”
“Did you hear how they found him in the alley? Quite gruesome, to be sure.”
“They say his throat was torn. Whether by a human or some animal, they do not know.”
He woke with a start, trapped in the tiny satin lined box. Fuelled by fear and a dreadful hunger, he ripped at the lining above him until it was in tatters. With an unknown strength, he punched at the wood of the lid until it splintered and gave way. Dirt from above rained over him, but to his surprise did not smother him, and he began to dig. Six feet he dug upwards with his bare hands, thrusting into the moonlight. When he rose from the ground she was waiting. He collapsed into Drusilla’s arms.
She held his head to her chest, stoking his curly brown hair. “There, there my William, my pretty boy. Now all will be well.”