The Guardian of the Dead

The Guardian of the Dead by: Reclusive Knight

As the sun came up in the city of York the morning newspaper was being delivered. The top headline for the day: "Two Area Residents Dead from Drug Overdose."

In the city there were many cemeteries, but one stood out from all the rest. It was the Oakhill Cemetery on the outskirts of the city. This cemetery was for the poor, the ones without a burial plot, and no life insurance. This was in the shadows of the near-by woods. The Oakhill Cemetery was surrounded by a half rusty and black iron spiked fence. Outside of the fence on the back side of the cemetery was a path leading into the woods. Down this path was the house where Fred Wilkerson resided. This same house had been the residence of a past gravedigger as well. His name was Marshal, and one night while working in the near-by cemetery he was murdered. The case was never solved, and the city was soon becoming known for unsolved murders and disappearances. Also the City of York had a major drug problem, and many of the residents were now addicted to the evil brown powder known as; Heroin!

The city had many methadone clinics, and they also had a free needle program to cut down on disease. There were many busy counselors in the city as well, but this seemed to be a losing battle. The city jail was already over-crowded with drug dealers and users. This addiction was also now becoming a problem in the rural areas surrounding the city. Rick and Stacey were just two of the many drug addicts in York.

As the keeper of the Oakhill Cemetery, Fred was always busy. His parents were killed years earlier in an automobile accident caused by a drug addict. The old house opposite the woods surrounding the Oakhill Cemetery was now Fred's. This house stood for over 100 years, and the old white paint was chipping off. The roof leaked, and the wooden porch was slowly rotting away. Fred didn't care, this was the place he now called home. His parent's house was sold after the accident to pay for their funeral. So Fred looked around the area and decided he did not want to live directly in the city. He chose the old house because it was just outside the city in a wooded area. Through the woods near-by was the cemetery, and Fred could walk to work daily.

The cemetery lacked funds for a backhoe to dig the graves, so Fred had to do things the old fashioned way; through sweat and blood he dug the graves. This was the perfect job for Fred being an alcoholic, because he could go to work drunk. He was; The Guardian of the Dead. The cemeteries in the city, as well as Oakhill, were all known hangouts for the area's drug addicts. They would venture into the cemeteries at night and shoot up their drugs. This is when the cemeteries started to report grave robberies! It seems the cities addicts were now piercing the earth for valuables to purchase the evil brown powder.

Back at Fred's place he was just getting out of bed, and it was already past noon. Fred would stay up late at night to work because there was no sun. He found that working in the cool night air was a lot easier on his body. Fred was now 55 years old, but he had the strength of a 35 year old man. All the years of digging graves kept Fred in very good shape despite the drinking. Something strange happened to Fred in his house, and he would never talk to anyone about it for fear of being called insane.

As Fred was sitting there thinking over his day he felt like there was something watching him! He looked down the hall in the dim light and began to see a white glow, then it would grow as it slowly approached him. He gripped his bottle of whiskey with a vise like grip. Then the figure appeared to him and Fred seen a ghostly figure standing over him.

The ghost would speak in a creepy tone, "I am MARSHAL, I use to be the gravedigger at Oakhill Cemetery. You must help to also guard the dead while your working. Protect them from being disturbed as they finally lie in peace."

Fred thought he was seeing things as he had been drinking heavily the previous night. Also Fred would only drink straight whiskey, this would often be his breakfast, lunch, and dinner! The ghostly spirit of Marshal quickly scared Fred straight, he soon learned he was not seeing things. There was actually a ghost standing in front of him. Now he understood why he got the old house so cheap.

The ghost spoke again, "If you don't kill them they will keep coming back."

Fred listened very carefully, he feared that if he didn't obey the ghost of Marshal that he would meet a terrible fate. Then at the flick of a light the ghost of Marshal was gone! So Fred did just that, and later that day after the sun went down Fred grabbed his shovel off the porch and lantern. Then he headed up the path into the woods. It was only a short walk to the other side where he entered the cemetery.

He began to put on his gloves, and then started to dig. There would be a burial the following day, so he had to finish by the morning. He was not concerned, the burial was around 11 a.m. and that meant Fred had more than twelve hours to complete his tough and dirty task. As he dug the grave the old lanterns flame danced around in the night air like a bat. There was only a half moon this night and the other side of the cemetery was barely visible.

He stopped about 3 feet down and sat on the edge of the dark dirty hole for a smoke. He looked down as felt something, and crawling up his arm was a large Centipede. Fred smoked, and with his other hand he began to play with the creepy crawler. He was use to bugs and spiders while working. There were also bats from the near-by woods that would come down and dance around the lantern light. An occasional owl could be heard hooting in the night. This was the time for many species to come alive, the hunters of the night.

The time would pass as Fred dug deeper into the dark damp earth. He was soon covered in sweat, and stopped for a drink of his whiskey. The whiskey was Fred's fuel, and it made even the creepiest things seem normal. Then Fred reached up and climbed out of the hole. It was time for the ladder; there was a ladder along the back fence of the cemetery that Fred used to get back out of the graves once they were finished. He placed the splintered wooden ladder in and climbed down.

Back in the city Rick and Stacey sat in their apartment and began to discuss ways to obtain money for the nights fix. They had some marijuana and they rolled a joint.

"Ahh, this tastes really good baby," Rick said as he coughed from the green herb.

"What are we going to do for money? I am starting to feel sick, and the weed isn't working tonight," Stacey said in a panic.

Rick ignored her for a moment as he continued to smoke the joint. He was obviously thinking, and what he would come up with would end up being a grave mistake!

"Well, we still have some gas in the car; I read about graves being robbed and people finding valuables worth thousands of dollars!" Rick replied with excitement.

Stacey looked at him, and with a creepy concern she said, "No way! I am not going to no cemetery and digging for money to get dope."

Stacey and Rick both referred to Heroin as dope. They would inject the evil brown powder after mixing it up to hot liquid form.

Rick said with a plan, "I will not let any dead bodies bite you baby, come on, I will drive and do all the digging."

She thought for a few minutes and her sickness and craving for the dope forced her to agree. So the two would go outside and find a shovel, then put it in the car. They got in and started up the car and began to drive out of York. Rick had the Oakhill Cemetery in mind because of it's dark and hidden location. It sat back from the roadway and you had to drive a couple hundred yards up a dirt road to get there. The cemetery also had no lights, and Rick and Stacey forgot to bring a flash light. As they turned up the old dirt road they saw a rabbit shoot across the road like speeding bullet.

In the cemetery Fred was finished digging for the night, it was already after midnight. He sat there on the side of the fresh dug grave and smoked; he also sipped on his whiskey. Then he heard the roar of an engine coming up the road and began to see lights shining on the trees. His adrenaline started to flow, and his heart began to beat faster and faster as they approached! One last sip of whiskey before the nights work would begin. After the burning sip, he killed the flame on his lantern, and sat there stalking the night.

Rick and Stacey began to approach the cemetery as they drove around the side and stopped.

"Shit, we forgot to bring a light! I guess I can turn the car towards the graves, and hope no one comes up the road," Rick said nervously.

Stacey was already feeling creepy about the plan, and now she was really scared. It's amazing what addiction can do to people. Their addiction was that strong it drove them to attempt such a macabre thing. They were now going to disturb the dead to feed their evil addiction.

"Come on Rick, let's just get this over with! I am sick, and scared," Stacey yelled out in a disgusted tone.

So as they got out and grabbed the shovel, they made their way over the black iron spiked fence.

"Ah Shit! I ripped my fucking pants, damn," Rick yelled out in anger.

Stacey now had a smile on her face for the first time of the night.

"Here we go, the lights are shining on these two. Pick one baby," Rick muttered.

Stacey didn't really care and pointed to the one on the end. It read: HERE LIES HENRY FLETCHER, BORN 1770, DIED 18 ___? The end of the old dirty white head stone was now covered with black growth. Rick smiled and then pierced the earth with his spade shovel in hopes of finding wealth to fuel their addiction.

Fred looked on and began to creep towards the two unsuspecting drug addicts. He was ready, and would obey the ghost of old man Marshal. Fred kept this in mind, and he agreed with the ghost about helping the dead rest in peace. Fred thought about his job, and how the gravediggers were the guardian of the dead. The site of Rick and Stacey digging made him sick with anger and disgust. He stopped and rested on his shovel as he took another drink of whiskey.

The two drug addicts looked like reapers in the night. Fred was only about 20 yards away now as he crept behind an old elm tree in the cemetery. He put away his power juice and gripped his sharp ended muddy shovel. Stacey and Rick were both facing in the opposite direction, she was standing straight up smoking a cigarette; Rick was crouched over with a shovel in hand digging. Before Rick even shoveled 10 scoops, Fred was standing in their shadow's!

A shovel came swinging wildly through the night air striking Rick in the neck and half chopping off his head. He fell to the ground, trying to speak but nothing was coming out except a steam of bright red blood. The tombstone now was barely readable at all due to the fact it was covered in Rick's blood.

Stacey began to scream out loud, "Ahhh, ahhhh, holy shit!" She began to run towards the car and quickly made it over the spiked fence.

Fred gave chase as he hopped the fence with his death tool in hand. Stacey jumped in the car, and when she reached down to start the car the keys were not there. They were in Rick's bloody pocket as his lifeless body lied in the cemetery. Fred opened the car door and yanked Stacey out by her long autumn brown hair.

In a uproarious way Fred began to mock Stacey as he made his way over the spiked fence dragging her behind. The fence raked her back drawing blood.

She was crying and now starting to plead to Fred, "Please don't kill me mister! I am sorry, it was all his idea. I was just wat...."

Then before she finished Fred squeezed her throat. She began to gasp for air, but there was none available to enter her lungs. Fred was now on top of her, and he was furious. In a psychotic fit he began to push two of his finger's in Stacey's left eye. She tried to scream, but was now turning purple as the blood was cut off from her cranium. Soon Fred's hand was covered in blood as Stacey's eye popped like road kill. She passed out, and Fred released his vice like grip. The profusion of blood now littered the ground. There was a puddle around Rick's severed head. Stacey was still breathing, but the blood flowed from her left eye socket as it formed a puddle in the dirt and grass.

Fred made his way over to shut off the car lights. He then went back to intruded the bodies looking for anything of interest. When he reached in Rick's front pocket he discovered the keys to the automobile. This is mainly what Fred was looking for; he then picked up Rick's body. The head of Rick's body was hanging from a bloody piece of skin. He carried the body over and tossed it into the freshly dug grave. Then he hurried back over and picked up Stacey, she woke up and began to fight with her one eye open! Fred threw her to the ground and picked up the near-by shovel and swung with great force! The sharp metal shovel crashed into the side of Stacey's skull. The blood shot out, and the splatter sprayed the grass and dirt. She was now a memory, as Fred moved her body to it's final resting place. He tossed her in the freshly dug grave on top of Rick's corpse.

Then Fred climbed down the ladder to fix the bodies in an orderly fashion. He mainly placed them side by side and made sure they were as flat as possible. He climbed back up the wooden ladder and removed it from the grave. The rest was like clock work to the guardian of the dead. He put the ladder back against the iron cemetery fence, and then proceeded to cover the bodies with the fresh earth. Fred shoveled in just enough dirt to cover the bodies and make the earth flat. This way after the burial service the coffin could be lowered on top the fresh dirt that now covered the two dead corpses. Fred could then finish sealing the grave later in the day.

There was an old well outside the cemetery next to what use to be a wooden structure. It was now in ruins from the years of mother nature beating on it. Fred kept an empty jug over there that he would use to wash up after work. He began to sober up from the adrenaline flow as he began to clean up the murder site. He dumped jug upon jug on the bloody grass and rubbed it around with his boot, it began to seep into the earth. After an hour or two the cemetery was quiet. Fred sat on the ground up against the old elm tree and smoked. He knew that he had yet to get rid of the car, but this did not worry him.

A couple of cigarettes later Fred got up and walked towards the car as he jingled the keys and hopped the fence. The night's work was almost over now; Fred moved the seat back as he got in to make room for his long narrow legs. Then he started up the car and played with the radio until he was pleased. As he drove the car away and down the dirt road there was no one in sight.

Fred drove on then and headed towards the busy city of York. When he drove into York there were cars going here and there. The city was always active no matter what time of the day. Fred drove for a dozen or so blocks and then entered a parking lot to a housing project. There was no around in the lot as he drove around and parked the car of the dead. When he got out he took off his coveralls and gloves. He wrapped up the gloves and coveralls and began to walk out of the lot, then headed up the street to a late night bar. Many of the bars stayed open long past 2:30 a.m. which was the required time for them to close.

The lights from the Checker Bar illuminated the street as Fred made his way in. He sat down and placed his work clothes on the floor by his feet at the bar.

The bartender came over and asked, "What would you like bud?"

Fred replied, "One shot of Wild Turkey."

He got up and walked over to the phone where he called a cab to take him home. His shot tasted so good after a hard nights work.

"Thanks. Take Care," Fred said as he picked up his things and walked outside to wait on his ride home.

Within minutes a cab pulled up and Fred got in. He said, "Oakhill please."

As the cab headed out of the city Fred sat in the back and smiled. He had done exactly what the ghost of Marshal told him to do. He wondered if there was going to be some kind of reward for guarding the dead, and letting them rest in peace.

"Just up here will be fine. My house is just up the path here," Fred told the cab driver.

He paid for his ride home and then got out and started walking up the dark path. Then he could see the light from his house to help guide the way. The old porch creaked and cracked as Fred stomped off his boots. He entered the house and grabbed some whiskey since his other bottle was now empty; then he made his way to the well worn dirty brown recliner. As he sat and drank the room became cloudy, and it began to spin. Fred was finally finished with the work he had been told to do by the ghost of Marshal.

He would now sit and wait to be praised; in what now appeared to him as the spinning and cloudy room. Then the room began to get chillingly cold, this got his attention even though he was intoxicated. In the hallway he noticed a bright white light piercing his bloodshot eyes. The light came closer to the dirty brown recliner, and with great anticipation of seeing Marshal's ghost again Fred felt sober. The hair on his arms stood at attention, and his heart began to race. He knew that he did everything he was told to do, and now the cloudy bright light began to take form. It was Marshal's ghost, he stood over Fred with great pleasure.

"You have helped guard the dead, but your mission is not over. You must keep working, I will give you the power to become immortal. After I give you this power, my soul will finally be able to rest in peace," Marshal haunted with great approval of Fred's work.

"Thank you Marshal, and you can rest assured that as long as I am The Guardian of the Dead; that you will rest undisturbed throughout time," Fred said with a crackle in his voice.

Then the ghost clutched his wrist, and placed it's other withered skeletal hand over Fred's heart. The room began to shake, and the light bulb blew out spraying glass around the room! The last thing he can remember is the ghost rising up through his ceiling. It was now gone, and Fred would now live on forever, guarding the cemetery, protecting the dead. Then he faded off into a drunken a coma.

Later that day the Oakhill Cemetery buzzed with activity. There were several cars and a hearse parked next to the cemetery. Inside was a small service for a poor middle aged man who died of cancer. As the service ended the casket was lowered into Fred's freshly dug grave. It came to a stop as it hit the bottom. Then the pastor tossed in a handful of dirt and gave his final blessing. The small funeral group began to disperse and the cemetery was once again silent. That night the guardian of the dead would be sure to keep it that way.

THE END