The older man stood, looking cautiously at the boy he’d watched grow up from childhood. He felt as if he should say something, but he had always been coarse. Even on a good day, he would often struggle to find the right words, let alone on a day like this. In the end, he decided to forgo language altogether, simply pressing down one of his calloused hands on the boy’s thin shoulder instead.
With reddened eyes, the man stared at the boy’s vacant expression. In as soft a tone as he could manage, he said to the boy, “We’ll be going now.”
“Mn.”
“You…” the man choked, “You take care of yourself.”
“Mn.”
Seeing that the boy made no move to leave, the man let out a heavy sigh and gave his shoulder one last squeeze before turning away and following his wife out to their car.
Oliver wasn’t sure how long he had been standing where the couple left him. It felt like it could have been hours, but in all likelihood, it wasn’t much more than a few minutes. On this day, the weather was unexpectedly beautiful, with clear blue skies and warm sunlight peeking through the bright green leaves of the willow overhead. The whole scene had a sense of absurdity to it. He felt that, at the very least, the birds singing so cheerfully in the trees around him could have toned it down a bit.
He wanted to laugh a little.
But he couldn’t.
For the past few days, there had been a thick gray fog in his mind quietly muffling his thoughts and emotions. As pervasive as this mental fog was, it wouldn’t take more than a light breeze for it to clear away. Oliver knew that going around acting like a pantomime of a human being probably wasn’t healthy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to block things out like this forever. But up until now, he couldn’t bear to take a closer look.
Standing alone under the shade of the old willow, his posture stiffened as he forced himself to focus his gaze on the marble in front of him. Looking at the pale white stone, he felt like he was being strangled. He quickly took in a sharp breath, and before his courage left him, he moved his eyes down towards the inscription to read–
At that moment, a harsh buzzing noise came from his pants pocket, very nearly startling him into cardiac arrest.
As his racing heart slowly calmed down, he belatedly realized that someone was calling him. Not being particularly in the mood to answer, he simply stared at his front pocket until it stopped vibrating.
With such a timely interruption, Oliver keenly felt as though his head weighed several tons. He couldn’t bring himself to look back up again.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Like a deflated balloon, he sank down to the ground, hugged his knees and fixed his gaze firmly on the ground. He hadn’t even been poking at the soft, recently disturbed dirt for longer than half a minute when his phone once again started buzzing. Without so much as blinking, he let the call go to voicemail, dully hoping that the person on the other end would take the hint. Though, it seems, he was destined to be disappointed in this aspect.
Oliver felt a flicker of annoyance as his phone went off for the third time. No longer able to hide behind an emotionless facade, he accepted the call without sparing half a glance at the caller ID, fully intending on venting his emotions on this unfortunate idiot. He took a deep breath, preparing to issue some “polite greetings” when an all-too-familiar voice cried out aggrievedly in his ear.
“Ollie–!”
Oliver froze.
“Thank fuck you answered! Why’d you send me to voicemail so many times, huh? You had me seriously wondering if I’d done anything to piss you off again. I’m no good at figuring those things out! If I do something wrong, you gotta tell me! Don’t just ignore me like this– No, shit, wait, that’s not what’s important right now. Dude! This is gonna sound crazy as all hell, but I think I’ve been kidnapped by a weird-ass cult– Hey! I’m being serious! Are you laughing at me?!”
In fact, Oliver had only momentarily forgotten that he needed to breathe. Before he could recover enough to respond, the boy on the other end of the phone continued.
“I’m not kidding! There was even this psycho wearing some kind of Halloween mask– not the shitty ones you get at Spirit Halloween, some like, professional shit– and they were claiming that they were God or some shit. That guy must have drugged me with something, cause in the middle of talking to him, I blacked out halfway through what I was saying. Bam! Next thing I know, I’m waking up in this shed I’ve never seen before, I’m these itchy-ass clothes that smell worse than Grynski’s unwashed ass, and then there’s some woman I’ve never met calling herself my mom!
Dude! I don’t know what the fuck to do! That cult-leader bastard that drugged me earlier forgot to take away my phone, but it’s mostly useless! It’s not connecting to the internet, and your number is the only one that even works! There are guys outside carrying swords, and one of them’s riding a fuck-off huge komodo dragon. Argh! What should I do? Ollie? Ollie are you there? Hellooo–”
Feeling dizzy, Oliver buried his face in his hands, barely managing to respond, “Y-yeah, I’m here.”
“What– Dude, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, but Liam,” Oliver leveled his gaze at the stone in front of him, “...how are you calling me?”
“How? What do you mean, how? I dialed your number like a normal fucking human being. Is it really that strange to be getting a call from me?”
Oliver let out a breathy laugh devoid of any actual humor, reading the engraved text again and again.
Liam James Hartford
Jun. 6 19XX - May 17 20XX
“Well, seeing how we all just finished burying your corpse… yeah, it’s a little fucking strange.”