Trembling With Fear 03/22/20

Silent Witness by G.A. Miller

The moon was nearly full in the cloudless night sky, the marble statues and headstones appearing unusually bright. The couple walked aimlessly along the paths in All Saints Cemetery for a short while before he finally stopped and turned to face her. Tania looked all around with childlike wonder, awed by the appearance of the marble under the moonlight.

“You were right Gordon; this place is amazing at night!”

“Well, it’s not like this every night. The bright moon and clear sky are what make nights like this special.”

“I thought you were crazy when you said you wanted to meet here tonight, but… I was so wrong! I feel like I’m walking right through a three-dimensional photo!”

“Tania, I need to tell you something.”

“Oh? Are you finally divorcing Maria? If you are, we should have brought champagne.”

“Actually, no. I’m not. I’m sorry for not having told you sooner, but… you and I are finished. I brought you here tonight because she can’t ever know about you,” he spoke softly as he slipped his hand out of his pocket and pressed a button on the knife, the double-edged blade thrusting out the top, glinting in the light. His face was expressionless as he looked up at her.

“I’m glad you like it here… well, considering…” he left the rest unsaid.

Her eyes first widened in surprise at the sight of the long blade pointing at her, then narrowed to slits. She began muttering in a guttural language, incomprehensible to Gordon, her hands moving wildly as though rearranging invisible elements in the air, which amused him.

“Go ahead and curse me out in whatever language you prefer, if it makes you feel better,” he grinned, waving the knife in front of him, clearly enjoying the sense of power the weapon seemed to bestow. 

“But it won’t change anything,” he continued, “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Tania.”

“Oh, I am cursing you, Gordon…” she hissed, “not in a way you can possibly understand. But you will… oh yes, you will,” as her clawed hands now closed into tight fists, she first licked the fresh blood her nails drew, then looked beyond him and smiled through clenched teeth. He was shocked at the bizarre change in her demeanor, expecting her to beg and plead with him.

“What in the hell are you smi…” he jumped; a noise very close behind him.

She laughed aloud when he started at the sound of grating stone. He turned around and screamed as three large statues closed in, flanking him so he had nowhere to turn. He didn’t feel the knife sliding out of his hand as he looked back at her.

“Please, Tania… whatever you’re doing, please stop it… for God’s sake!”

“Oh, now you beseech the Almighty, but a moment ago? Tsk tsk, Gordon. If it’s any consolation, I promise your precious Maria will never know about me. Feel better now, you lying bastard?”

Gordon’s final act was to hold his hands out in a silent plea to her as something sharp and heavy pierced his lower back, forcing its way up and out through his chest, his breastbone cracking loudly in the peaceful night as he was lifted off the ground by the intrusion. Tania stepped back to avoid the blood splatter from his spasms.

“Thank you. Thank you all,” Tania said softly as she walked away from the scene, heading back to the gates, gently placing her hand on each statue as she passed it. She took one last look at the remarkable lighting cast by the moonlight before she got into her car, backed it away from where Gordon’s was parked, and drove off into the night.

Hours later, groundskeeper Ed Carleton pulled his battered pickup in front of the closed gates at All Saints and glanced at the SUV parked in the first spot.

“Well now, who the hell are you? Cemetery don’t open for hours yet, buster.” He mused aloud. He turned the key to accessory and switched the radio on, already tuned to his favorite AM talk show. He slipped his seat belt off and set about enjoying his coffee and breakfast sandwich as he listened to his show and watched the sunrise, his favorite part of the day.

His sandwich now finished, Ed sipped his coffee and lit a cigarette as he watched the sky turning a majestic red, then to yellow as the sun came up. Something was off, though, something not looking right, disturbing his morning routine. As the sky lightened, he saw the silhouette of something hanging off the large statue of Saint Michael. He glared at that SUV again, wondering how those troublemaking kids had such nice rides these days.

“Well, damn! Ain’t I got enough to do without cleaning whatever the hell you kids…”

Ed’s cup slipped from his grip then, falling unnoticed onto the floor mat in the pickup when the sunlight finally illuminated Gordon’s twisted, broken body impaled on the huge broadsword in the statue’s right hand. The entire sword and half the statue’s arm were dark red with his blood, looking almost black in the golden morning light.

Ed Carleton, a lifelong atheist, did not realize he’d made the sign of the cross before he tossed the butt out the window and reached for his cell phone sitting in its holder on the dashboard.