The Beginning of the End
By~Secret~
Author's Note: this is a strange story I wrote from a Cemetery Gates Point of View. It's a weird story, but I like it. I have no Idea what the events preceding this were, but you'll just have to deal with that. Oh, and yes, I know the title is very cliché, but if you think of anything better, let me know. ~a~
I've seen many sad, sad faces going in and out these gates throughout the years. I thought I'd seen probably the saddest people in the world. But nothing compared to this face. The eyes were the first thing I noticed. Hollow looking, like death. They looked like they were in pain. Great, great pain, and even to me, a steel gate that has sat around here for centuries, who has seen wars and death and destruction that you could never imagine, these eyes looked like they had seen, and even been through worse than I could imagine. The face was pale, and looked as if it hadn't been fed in days. Not from lack of food, but lack of will. It was naturally pale, as if the boy had never been in the sun for very long. He was of medium build, with dirty blond hair that looked as if it had been fought with for hours to get to stay in place. The boy, rather young, around twenty or so followed four caskets in, plus one Urn. The Coffins were open. In the last one, closest to the boy, there was a girl. She was beautiful. She could have been a model. Tall, blonde, and overall perfect looking. But she too had the same look of sadness as the boy had. Hers wasn't as bad, but it was still much more horrible than anything I have ever seen. Even in her death, she carried that look of sadness. I could hardly bear to even keep looking, but I did.
* * *
The next was a boy. Short, slightly muscular, and Hispanic. He too, even in his death carried that look of great sadness. But he was different, in a way. His eyes looked hopeful. As if he was yet waiting for something, something he knew was impossible.
* * *
The girl in front of him was short, and black. She too was different than the others. This was quite an odd group. Her face looked somehow peaceful. It had the same tone of sadness as everyone else, yet her face looked like she was almost relieved to die, and to leave this place, though she would miss some things about it. Strange.
* * *
The Boy in front of her was slightly taller than the rest, though about the same as the first of this procession of sad, dead children. His face was strong, that of a leader. He too, shared the incredible sadness the other's faces carried. His eyes were cast downwards, as if he did not want people to notice him. His job here was done.
* * *
In front of that was a Strangely Handsome boy about the age of the others, carrying the urn. He, much unlike the others did not have the look of extreme, painful sadness, though somehow I could sense the ache of sadness radiating from him. He stepped slowly, carefully, as if he had absolutely nothing better to do and didn't care what people thought anymore.
* * *
The strange procession marched slowly on, and I watched until they were completely out of sight. I never saw either of the surviving boys again, and I was glad. Even to a steel gate, their presence and sadness scared me.
