George likes playing hide and seek. Running with the children of the village through meadow grass, among the mounds and hillocks, chasing along the timeworn runs of fox and rabbit through the ruins. Donna is his best friend now. So many years, so many generations since he first arose, a victim hidden without blessing, a boy of twelve forever –
A document appears in a plastic sleeve pinned to the wooden stump that once supported a lych-gate. It sets out formal notice of development, affordable housing for local families. The planning notice says archaeologists must investigate the ancient site before construction work begins. Soon the children see a motley crew arrive in assorted vehicles. The new arrivals set up camp with tents and boards, wheelbarrows and spades amid much chatter and laughter.
“What are you doing?” asks Donna.
“Digging up the past,” says a smiling archaeologist.
“You mean like Time Team?”
“Yes, young lady, but without a TV crew and with no more time.”
Alongside piles of fresh-dug soil, fragments of stone and china appear separated out in plastic trays. Men with metal detectors sweep the spoil and place the odd coin, button and buckle in plastic bags, tagged and logged. Some trenches yield broken coffins and old graves. The archaeologists set up special white tents and lift the human remains with care and dignity.
“Where are you taking them?”
“To a place where they can rest in peace.”
“Will they be blessed?”
“Well — ” he hesitates. “We always say prayers in our hearts, but we don’t know what these people believed. This is an ancient burial ground.”
“George and I will bless them too.”
The archaeologist looks around and then back at Donna. He shakes his head and smiles a puzzled smile.
Twilight on the final day and most trenches are back filled, vans are loaded and equipment stashed away.
Only one small trench remains, a bending figure troweling rapidly within. Most children hurry home for tea, but in the lengthening shadows Donna waits.
“Look, here!” an urgent cry. The whole team gathers around the trench.
“A ritual sacrifice?”
“No, it’s too recent, perhaps two hundred years.”
“Could it be murder?”
After moments of examination, excited discussion, the bleep of a detector and more muted cries, Donna appears among the group.
“Is that the knife, the one that killed him?”
All eyes turn on Donna.
“How did you know it was a boy?”
“I just do, that’s all. May I see him?”
“I think you’re too young — ”
“Donna, my name is Donna, and I must see him.”
The circle parts and Donna kneels beside the curled-up bones. She kisses her fingertips, reaches out and touches the forehead of the skull.
“Goodbye,” she whispers.
The police forensic team has come and gone, the sun has set and the archaeologists are dropping Donna home.
“Goodbye, Donna, it’s been good to meet you,” says the smiling archaeologist climbing back into his car.
“Goodbye,” Donna waves.
He leans out from his driving window. “Donna, where’s your friend — George?”
Donna smiles. “Oh, he’ll be home safe now.”
Oscar Windsor-Smith was born on the Wirral, UK — that’s the sticky-out bit below Liverpool and above Wales — but drifted to various points of the compass and finally settled in rural Hertfordshire where he lives with one wife, three cats and a Volvo 480. He has had non-fiction articles published, had a novel long-listed for the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook centenary novel competition and has accumulated various short and flash fiction competition credits.
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20 Responses to “GRAVE CONCERNS • by Oscar Windsor-Smith”
Comments
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March 6th, 2009 at 1:39 am
Very nice, Oscar. George and Donna get a five from me.
March 6th, 2009 at 1:52 am
The start was strong but it lost its way a little towards the slightly woolly end. Overall I liked it though. You could have done more with it if you weren’t constrained by the word count, and I think I would have enjoyed reading it in a longer form.
March 6th, 2009 at 2:25 am
Excellent stuff! A high five from me!
March 6th, 2009 at 6:15 am
The leap from P1 into the rest of the story was a bit abrupt for me. It felt like it was going in one direction then the story restarted.
I’m didn’t understand how, if George was a ghost, he was going to do any blessing, particularly of his own remains.
Dialogue tags in parts might have helped understand who was speaking. Three lines starting with “goodbye” in the last part was a bit much.
Overall, this story was okay.
March 6th, 2009 at 6:25 am
Thanks for your comments, all. I see your point about the ‘goodbye’ lines, too, John. Funny how these things don’t hit you at the time of writing/editing, isn’t it? Thanks.
March 6th, 2009 at 6:37 am
Wow…What A Story…..i think you should have made a bit clear that George Was A Ghost
So many years, so many generations since he first arose, a victim hidden without blessing, a boy of twelve forever –
Many People wont understand this…
HIGH FIVE FROM ME
Keep Writing Such Stories
March 6th, 2009 at 7:07 am
Oh, George was a ghost! that makes much more sense than what I thought happened, lol. Great stpry just the same.
March 6th, 2009 at 7:34 am
Very good – the essence of this story is a winner – high five from me. I had no difficulty in following the story and the meaning was quite clear, but it was the sensitive touch and the well-defined character – in so few words! – of the child Donna that made this works so well for me.
March 6th, 2009 at 8:21 am
Touching tale, beautifully written.
March 6th, 2009 at 8:37 am
Well written, but a little dissappointing in its abruptness because there was so much more you could’ve given us with more space. (But then, I guess that’s the best compliment- the readers want more of what you wrote)
March 6th, 2009 at 8:44 am
Very nice piece, Oscar. Lovely writing.
March 6th, 2009 at 9:15 am
Very well written in a restrained, delicate way. Excellent flow. A top addition to the “Kiss of Death” genre.
Added thought: It’s she who kissed the past, not George, the rememberer of former days and the very present “runner through the meadow grass.”
March 6th, 2009 at 10:50 am
Great job, Oscar. A piece you might legthen into a short story at some future point.
–dj
March 6th, 2009 at 12:57 pm
Lovely story, Oscar. And welcome to EDF!
March 6th, 2009 at 2:25 pm
A lovely little understated piece Oscar.
March 7th, 2009 at 6:47 am
I thought it was completely clear that George was a ghost – and I love your delicate, subtle writing style. The only way I felt you could have made it a bit easier on your readers, was to have had a couple of asterisk’d ‘action breaks’ to denote the passing time and shift in viewpoint.
March 7th, 2009 at 10:03 am
Thank you everybody for all your kind words and feedback. I see your point about the breaks too, sjhigbee. Thanks.
March 8th, 2009 at 12:02 pm
I think this story would be fascinating if you forced yourself to stay in the archeologists viewpoint.
March 9th, 2009 at 4:35 am
Interesting though, Sylvia. Thanks.
March 9th, 2009 at 4:40 am
That was of course meant to be ‘thought’, not ‘though’. Apologies for my banana fingers.