Read Online Invisible by Lorena McCourtney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lorena McCourtney
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the vandals arrived now, while I was right out here with no place to hide? I held my breath until I was safely on the other side.
No more headlights rose out of the darkness, and a minute later I was slipping under the metal arch. Inside the cemetery, I kept to the shelter of the tombstones, dashing across the open spaces between them, in case the vandals arrived before I reached my chosen station.
I hadn’t brought a flashlight, but I had no trouble locating Aunt Maude and Uncle Romer’s overturned tombstone by starlight. Individual as most of the gravestones were, none of the others approximated an overturned Volkswagen Bug.
I was also sweating from the climb up the hill as I settled into the protective shadows of the fallen tombstone. The night air was still and warm and humid, with a faint scent of swampy growth where stagnant water pooled along edges of the creek. Off in the distance a milky glow hung over the city, brighter sparkles of the city itself below. From this hillside spot I had an unobstructed view of tombstones, entryway, road, and bridge. No one was going to sneak up on me here.
I extracted a small notebook with attached pencil from my pocket. My plan was simple: When the vandals arrived and started their dirty work, I would, with my newfound invisibility, sneak up close enough to catch the license plate number on their vehicle and write it down. Then I’d have the goods on them and could go to the police again.
Headlights flared on the road. I eased deeper into the shadows, heart pounding, but the vehicle zoomed on by. After two more passing cars and another twenty minutes, I scooted around to rest my back on the tombstone.
With my head against the stone and my gaze turned to the stars, I found it impossible not to wander into philosophical contemplations. Had the Lord really made all this, stars as far as the eye could see? Yes. I had no problem with that concept. I could not, in fact, feature how anyone could think all this simply popped into existence by itself, without God.
But why all this, Lord? Why so many stars and so much space? Do you intend for your children here on earth to venture out there? Unanswerable questions. But one prominent truth. Even in the midst of all this grandeur, you still care about each and every one of us, don’t you? Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
I mentally fenced off a section of sky and tried to count the stars, but they seemed to wiggle and twist like so many celestial puppies. I let the count go. God knew how many there were and why they were there, and that was all that mattered.
The tombstone got harder. One bump felt like a headlight bulging into my back. A spot on my sneaker rubbed uncomfortably against my sockless foot. I suspected brown was migrating to my ankles. I peered at my digital watch with the oversized numbers I needed these days. Could it really be only 12:50? My stomach growled as if on a fast-track schedule for breakfast. Why hadn’t I brought a snack? I stood up and stretched. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The crickets had become white noise. I had to concentrate or I didn’t even hear them now.
And in spite of the various physical discomforts, I was getting sleepy. Shouldn’t I be wide awake, edgy about being alone here among the dead?
Well, I wasn’t. I’d been a bit uneasy there in the car when I first arrived, but now I was just sleepy. I felt no ghostly presences, no restless souls. I was still nervous about encountering the vandals, but that didn’t keep me from feeling as if I could pillow my head on the weedy ground and fall right to sleep.
I tried to remember some creepy ghost stories to scare myself awake. Banshees and ghouls, vampires and werewolves, satyrs and zombies. I conjured up the possibility that there were no living human vandals, that it was evil entities rising up from the graves to wreak havoc on the tombstones. But all that came to mind was a movie cartoon about a friendly ghost. Casper, wasn’t
No more headlights rose out of the darkness, and a minute later I was slipping under the metal arch. Inside the cemetery, I kept to the shelter of the tombstones, dashing across the open spaces between them, in case the vandals arrived before I reached my chosen station.
I hadn’t brought a flashlight, but I had no trouble locating Aunt Maude and Uncle Romer’s overturned tombstone by starlight. Individual as most of the gravestones were, none of the others approximated an overturned Volkswagen Bug.
I was also sweating from the climb up the hill as I settled into the protective shadows of the fallen tombstone. The night air was still and warm and humid, with a faint scent of swampy growth where stagnant water pooled along edges of the creek. Off in the distance a milky glow hung over the city, brighter sparkles of the city itself below. From this hillside spot I had an unobstructed view of tombstones, entryway, road, and bridge. No one was going to sneak up on me here.
I extracted a small notebook with attached pencil from my pocket. My plan was simple: When the vandals arrived and started their dirty work, I would, with my newfound invisibility, sneak up close enough to catch the license plate number on their vehicle and write it down. Then I’d have the goods on them and could go to the police again.
Headlights flared on the road. I eased deeper into the shadows, heart pounding, but the vehicle zoomed on by. After two more passing cars and another twenty minutes, I scooted around to rest my back on the tombstone.
With my head against the stone and my gaze turned to the stars, I found it impossible not to wander into philosophical contemplations. Had the Lord really made all this, stars as far as the eye could see? Yes. I had no problem with that concept. I could not, in fact, feature how anyone could think all this simply popped into existence by itself, without God.
But why all this, Lord? Why so many stars and so much space? Do you intend for your children here on earth to venture out there? Unanswerable questions. But one prominent truth. Even in the midst of all this grandeur, you still care about each and every one of us, don’t you? Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
I mentally fenced off a section of sky and tried to count the stars, but they seemed to wiggle and twist like so many celestial puppies. I let the count go. God knew how many there were and why they were there, and that was all that mattered.
The tombstone got harder. One bump felt like a headlight bulging into my back. A spot on my sneaker rubbed uncomfortably against my sockless foot. I suspected brown was migrating to my ankles. I peered at my digital watch with the oversized numbers I needed these days. Could it really be only 12:50? My stomach growled as if on a fast-track schedule for breakfast. Why hadn’t I brought a snack? I stood up and stretched. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The crickets had become white noise. I had to concentrate or I didn’t even hear them now.
And in spite of the various physical discomforts, I was getting sleepy. Shouldn’t I be wide awake, edgy about being alone here among the dead?
Well, I wasn’t. I’d been a bit uneasy there in the car when I first arrived, but now I was just sleepy. I felt no ghostly presences, no restless souls. I was still nervous about encountering the vandals, but that didn’t keep me from feeling as if I could pillow my head on the weedy ground and fall right to sleep.
I tried to remember some creepy ghost stories to scare myself awake. Banshees and ghouls, vampires and werewolves, satyrs and zombies. I conjured up the possibility that there were no living human vandals, that it was evil entities rising up from the graves to wreak havoc on the tombstones. But all that came to mind was a movie cartoon about a friendly ghost. Casper, wasn’t
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