On the top of the monument, blind, an angel smiles. Branches of trees, deep-rooted ghosts, scratch the tombs. A hole, cavity encumbered by mortal remains, exhales a stinking scent. This morning, the gravedigger drink softly a glass of white wine; nobody worries about him-the customer can wait a little while. He trudges along the paths; his wife has start life afresh, the death’s sell disagrees with her. November’s wind has his anorak pierced, a blade sunbeam perforate the fog. With a bloom, he pushes the leaves, which covered the graves; wild mixed herbs penetrate by the crevices. Witness of the abyss among the society, for any a marble’s mausoleum, for another a simple mound. In a concession, an intruder has entered inside a tomb without agreement, all the coffins brought together. After deliberation, the family give a welcome to her. All make it up with her for eternity after a quarrel of many years. Amen!
A gallop hammers the paving stones. Backs hearse appears suddenly into the graveyard. An accumulation of funeral wreaths, posthumous praise, dissimulates the roof. Top hats in their hands, some old men who wear dress-suit accompany the defunct with his widow to the last residence. He wears a dress with black dentels, sobs the face in her handkerchief.
Her hero, winner of battles in ARDENNES, MARNE CHAMPAGNE brought a lot of soldiers in death items by famous acts. On black velvet cushion many orders reward of life taking away prematurely. The funeral procession immobilises, four vigorous soldiers lift up the coffins, bring it down into the grave. A trumpet plays a hymn. The gravedigger stands to attention. A vicar delivers the funeral oration, rest of the soul, thanks for the courageous actions. The server supports a great cross, which the shadow hails the general for the last time. Sprinkler steeps in blessed water, the participant’s traces the sign over the grave throw a handful of ground o the coffins. The funeral procession goes back. It’s over.
The gravedigger whistles, spits in his hands, grasps the shovel, recovers the coffins by regular movement. He thinks, he doesn’t bury a four stars everyday. certainly, for the soldiers have rough time of it.; *GOD asks him counts.
A little blond girl brings some flowers picked in the fields, and put it in front of the daddy’s picture. On a stone en epitaph” KILLED IN ACTION”, she makes the sign of the cross quickly, starts; A heavy rain machine-guns the tomb. Paddles of water grows. Round shouldered, the gravedigger goes home. On the top of the monument, an angel sits up. Unmoved
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Comments about this review »
Collingwood21 09.03.2003 14:35
Hasn't this already been in the cafe? Sorry, but you are not allowed to put one review in two categories. If you email the powers that be (feedback.uk@team.ciao.com) then you can get one deleted.
SueMagee 09.03.2003 13:57
If you have any difficulty in getting this moved let me know and I'll give you a hand. Sue.
Mar 9th, 2003
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