I didn't like death.

It sounds stupid to say, I know… but it's almost a fear, no, I fear death.

There was always that thought of what happens to everything that makes you, well… you. The corporeal form is either burned or buried but what about the mind? Or the soul? Or consciousness all together? Where does it go?

I heard that the last thing you see before you die is a light.

The whole concept scares me. I don't want to die alone in a bed. I want someone nearby so when I do go, I go peacefully. I want someone to clutch my hand and tell me that it's okay. To let me know that it's dying is alright.

Or is that morbid of me? Never mind! Let me think about something else.

I bent down, sorting through dead flowers, brushing them aside. I gathered up the freshly cut flowers beside me and began to place them next to the small tombstone in the ground.

It read in serious font: Kenneth McCormick.

It's been a while since my brother died. He was always there when I needed him. Always smiling and carrying on. He was strong when I was weak. Kenny, he made me into the person I am today. I still miss him, but not as much as I used to.

Not to sound cruel but I've accepted it. I've moved on. I've done my crying. Things are… better now. I'd like to think so anyways. He's still my guardian angel but... I'm stronger now.

My other big brother, Kevin, ran off with Stan's sister. Probably eloped or something. I haven't seen either of them in a few years. But, I guess anything is better than South Park. There's too much here. If I could leave I would. Unfortunately, my roots are too far down to be removed.

I turned my attention to another tombstone, picking away the dead flowers just as before and placing new ones beside her stone.

In the same font it read: Carol McCormick.

Yeah, mom's gone too. It all happened so fast. One minute she was giving birth in the comforts of home and the next she was gone. Whatever happened to the baby was anyone's guess… I can't really remember. It's all still really fuzzy. I remember Kenny was upset for a long time... until he-

Stuart hasn't been the same. Well, any more so than usual. Drinking and getting into screaming fits with me and crying… trying to find someone to take mom's place. He won't.

Mom and my brother… Here they are in the ground and I'm up here. They are gone and I'm still alive. I want to believe that they're still okay. That they're somewhere… I really want to believe.

It's hard.

I got back up to my feet, looking down at the tombstones with a sigh.

That's when something caught my eye.

Out of the far corner of my eye, I saw a man in all black. Like a deathly grim reaper. Like Death itself. Skeletal and foreboding. But the man in black was far less menacing. Curly hair, black trench coat and big nose… Not really ominous. It reminded me of a guy I saw in a magazine once. Maybe he was Goth or a Vampire or Emo? Who knows.

He wasn't placing flowers on graves, no, he was sitting under a tree, gazing up at the sky. As if this were the park and cloud gazing was completely normal.

I went back pretending to attend to the flowers. His eyes met mine and then he started towards me. What if he wanted to mug me?! Oh gosh! I had to be ready. While I was lost in frantic thoughts, he was standing beside me, "What do you think you're doing?" he puffed on his cigarette, his peculiar voice striking.

I tried my hardest not to jump. I gathered myself up, brushing the sides of my green coat nervously, "P-putting flowers on my mom and brother's graves."

I thought it would be enough to make him back off but it wasn't.

"Why?" he snorted. "All you conformists do is put flowers on these graves to make it look like you care. Who has the biggest stone to the little things such as who has more flowers? A freaking rat race even in death."

Something inside me twisted the wrong way. I didn't like this man, not one bit.

"I do it because I… I really miss them and I love them," My eyebrows furrow as I glared at him. "I would do anything for them to know that I still care. If they're in heaven right now-"

"Ugh, and you're religious. You probably only believe in God for a crutch like most Britney wannabes. They aren't looking down at you… their looking up. They're buried under the ground, being eaten by worms. Dead. Forever."

I straightened up and stood my ground, like Kenny taught me. "If I would have wanted your opinion I would have asked for it. Did I? No," I hissed out the last part. "So… please, shut the fuck up."

The Goth stopped, his eyebrow lifting up, just slightly. A small smile graced his dark features. "I see, you're not as soft-spoken as I thought. Fine, I'll grace you with my presence." He ashed passively, his eyes glazed. Probably from boredom. "Michael."

"Karen," I started. "Why are you here?"

There are only a few reasons why people come to graveyards and staring up at the sky is not one. You could do that anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. I liked to look out the window at school and watch clouds pass by. That was my favorite, especially in calculus.

He brought the cigarette down on a larger tombstone behind him, dying out the cancer stick. The man grunts, "I'm always here. It's quiet and dark. This is where I do my thinking."

"But, it's sunny…" I shot him a smile while he deadpanned. I cleared my throat, brushing it off, "Wait, you're all alone then?"

"Yes, why? Would you like to accompany me and hold my hand like a child?"

"No, it's just kinda spooky."

"Why? Are they, 'coming to get you Barbra'? Look, there's one now!" he pointed behind me and I nearly flung myself at him. God, I hate cruel jokes and I hate zombies! The thought of one make my stomach turn. Maybe that's why I don't visit the graveyard too often?

...Or watch The Walking Dead.

Without another word, Michael turned from me, wandering off. He must have gotten bored with me. I know I'm not unique or different but... I'm not that bad right? I watched him stroll off before I stopped him, calling out, "Don't go!"

His head craned back in my direction, halting. "What is it?"

Zombies! Don't let them get me! "I have some extra flowers. Would you want to put them on someone's grave?"

Michael walked back to me, snatching them out of my hand before ambling out of the main graveyard plots and into a blank square of grass, next to the pet cemetery. He knelt in the middle of the plot and placed the flowers down. As if he could read my mind, he answered me. "Potter's field."

'They bury pottery pieces'? I almost said but Michael was above jokes.

"Potter's field is for people who are unknown or are indigent. They are cremated and buried here. Unmarked graves. They are no longer people and just burnt corpses that nobody remembers nor cares for." He fixed the bunch of flowers before scowling at the gravestones in the main plots. "These people need more attention."

Suddenly, this mean person- well, mean looking person was a Good Samaritan. He was sweet on the inside. Like dark chocolate with a gooey caramel center.

I smiled warmly at the man and it was very sincere. "That's sweet Michael."

"Whatever."

A woman came strutting into entrance of the gates of the graveyard, holding an umbrella in one hand and a cigarette holder in the other. She was a… thick woman. Dark makeup and gaudy purple lipstick. Henrietta eyed us before scoffing. "Please, save me the excuses why you were talking to this conformist, pencil dick."

He didn't say anything but moved to her side. The heavy-set woman hooked an arm with him. "Michael, shall we leave? Firkle and Pete are waiting for us over at Village Inn."

Micheal gave a quick wave and was drug away by the sea-cow. I watched him leave, seeing the man in a new light.

And I couldn't help but think...

If that was Death, I no longer fear Him.

The song that inspired the tone/theme was The Blue Oyster Cult - Don't Fear the Reaper.

Also, I was pondering if Carol died that Kenny would have no way to be reborn and stay dead. And that's why the author's note is at the bottom… To not spoil anything! Yay.

For Frostylicious! :D