Happy sixth anniversary, Oliver! ^v\\
This was inspired by "A Song for the Forgotten" featuring Oliver and Dex by baggagelizard. I hope you enjoy~
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"Oliver, you shouldn't go in there," Hio called.
The boy stopped, turning at Hio's voice. "Why not?" He glanced back at the old, rusted gate that hung weakly from its hinges. Beyond it, a bleak field of raised stones sprawled out. Ivy and weeds crept among the stones like invasive snakes, adding to the dismal appearance.
Hio took Oliver's hand and guided him back down the street. "Haven't you heard? It's not safe. Some say it's haunted."
"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," Oliver pouted, yanking his hand out of Hio's grip.
Hio swallowed, but he kept walking. "I don't," he said slowly. "But weird things happen there. Just stay away from it, okay?"
Oliver sighed. "Okay." As they walked, he took one last glance back at the mysterious cemetery. A flicker seemed to dart from behind one of the trees, and he blinked. He looked back up at Hio, but Hio's fixed expression silenced him. Maybe another day.
As much as he did his best to avoid it, Oliver found the cemetery difficult to ignore. It lay almost midway between Hio's apartment and the school, and each day Oliver felt his curiosity growing stronger. What was in there? Why did people so purposefully avoid it, save to bury their own?
As he walked home from school and music practice, Oliver's eye once again drifted over the quiet glade. Its somber stillness beckoned him, and the spark of curiosity within him burned stronger than ever.
He glanced around; not a soul was in sight. Who would know if he was a few minutes late coming home?
He hesitated a moment, his feet itching to move in one direction or the other. Silently uttering an apology to Hio, Oliver shifted his violin backpack and stepped off the sidewalk.
With a pounding heart, he approached the gate. He pressed gently on the old metal which obliged with a groaning creak. As he entered, he realized he was holding his breath. The whole field seemed eerily hushed, as though waiting expectantly.
The lush grass was cold against his feet, and it tickled as he walked. Although filled with decay, the field seemed to pulsate with life. The grass was a lively green. Ivy and scattered trees shone brightly in the dappled sunlight. Everything was still, but the wind seemed to carry hints of whispers through it as it played in the trees and rustled Oliver's hair.
He smiled to himself, finally releasing his held breath. The air was slightly chilly but pleasant. He glanced down at the stones, which stood like guards at attention in their neat rows.
Most of the newer stones were located on the fringe of the cemetery because it had grown outwards, so these at the entrance were old and weather-beaten. A few had surrendered in their fight against time and fallen over, but most stood proudly despite their cracks and chips.
Softly running his hand along one of them, Oliver tried to read the faded carvings. The words were long lost, however. He squinted, trying to decipher any of the dates and names, but few were even visible.
As his eyes scanned the stones, he found a few that were legible. All of them ended at 1863. That's strange, Oliver mused.
Suddenly, a gust of wind sent his hat flying. He jumped up and ran after it, wrapping his coat around him to brace against the chill.
The wind died as he knelt down to retrieve his fallen hat, and he glanced up. He was face-to-face with a battered stone, its once neatly-carved face reduced to shallow markings.
Oliver put his hat back on and pushed away a few strands of ivy that had wandered onto the stone. Although the rest of the name was lost, the first few letters seemed to be "D-E-X". The date was, again, 1863, but the description made him catch his breath. This stone was for a soldier.
With a start, he realized they were all soldiers.
Standing slowly, Oliver glanced around at the other stones, their rows hauntingly reminiscent of the ranks their namesakes must have stood in so long ago. Brothers in arms, brothers in death.
Oliver shivered, but not from the wind. He stumbled over to a nearby tree and sat down in its shade beside a large stone. Why did all these have to die for some cause no one remembered?
He watched the leaves' shadows sway and dance on the grass and tumble over the stones. Though it felt more somber than before, he still found the stillness comforting. Perhaps it would be a good place to rest forever.
Are they happy here? he wondered. Were they able to let go of their pain? Were they able to rest?
As he tried to lean back against the tree, Oliver's violin pack pushed against his back. He swung it off his shoulders and examined it, running his fingers along the thick seams. A small thought ran through his head. It wouldn't be much, but….
He unzipped the case with a loud thwip! The sound seemed to break the silent atmosphere, but Oliver didn't care. He took his violin out of the pack and stood, gently resting it on his shoulder.
This is going to look really silly if anyone sees me, he chuckled to himself. Shrugging the thought aside, he picked up his bow and began to play.
He ran his fingers lightly along the strings, weaving a delicate melody that pulsed with the life of the graves around him. The wind and the leaves seemed to sing along, whispering their own ghostly harmonies.
His song gradually grew stronger, swelling to its fullest as he remembered those long forgotten. Though he hadn't had much practice singing and playing, he opened his mouth and gave words to his feelings. The lyrics spilled from his mouth: he sang of loss, of hurt, of memories and of rest. And he hoped the owners of the stones could somehow hear it and know someone was thinking of their sacrifice.
As his music soared through the air, the wind blew around him and churned up the fallen leaves into dancing spirals. Oliver was afraid he might lose his hat again, but it stayed put this time. He smiled as the field seemed to unite in a dance with his song.
Gradually, his fingers moved faster over the strings until the music reached a crescendo. With a satisfied smile, he played one more chord and stopped, leaving the notes suspended in the air for a moment.
The field reverberated with the echoing silence. As he stopped, the wind died down and hushed the air, the silence deafening.
Oliver stood among the stones, hands trembling slightly as he replaced his violin and bow in their case. As he looked around, he smiled. It felt almost as though someone had been listening.
Quickly donning his backpack, Oliver retraced his steps to the entrance and closed the gate behind him. He desperately hoped Hio wouldn't notice his absence, but part of him wondered if he really cared at all if Hio found out.
Glancing behind him, Oliver took one last look at the cemetery. The trees waved softly in the small breeze that had started back up. He sighed contentedly and turned to go. "See you tomorrow," he promised.
