Chapter 4: Leo’s Journal: September 20th, 1998
Leo walked down Cushing Avenue, his hands in his pockets as he made his way towards Edgewood Cemetery. Occasionally he saw people.
Some of them were even alive.
Most of them who were this close to a cemetery, however, were dead.
Some of them knew it. Others did not. Those who did not tended to be younger. Fresher. Some had been buried as recently as the month before. A few ghosts had even been there since the cemetery’s founding. Many knew they were dead. They knew they were dead, and they were quite pleased with the fact.
Some of them even knew Leo could see them.
Thankfully they were rather benign, more curious than aggressive.
“Hello, Leo,” a young woman said as he entered the gates of the cemetery.
Leo paused, flanked on either side by the large granite pillars of the entrance. Black, wrought iron fencing stretched around the perimeter of Edgewood.
The young woman, or rather the ghost of the young woman, sat by her headstone. She wore a simple outfit of black and white, her bonnet on.
Patience Burchinal.
Dead at sixteen from consumption.
Born November 14th, 1774.
Died November 1oth, 1791.
Leo smiled at her. “Good morning, Miss Burchinal.”
The young, narrow faced ghost smiled at him in return. “Where are you going? To see your grandmother again?”
“I am.”
“You are devoted.”
He bowed his head slightly. “I hope you will have a good day, Miss Burchinal.”
“I will,” Patience replied, and Leo left her.
He saw others as he walked, some who recognized him, as Patience had, and others who weren’t sure if he was real or not. He waited for them to address him. He felt no need to interrupt them, or confuse them if they continued to remain in the cemetery. It was their business, not his.
Keeping to himself Leo walked to where the new graves were situated, in the far right corner and behind the keeper’s brown house. Here he saw quite a few of the dead. None of them seeming to know quite what the world was about. Part of him wanted to help them, yet the other part knew he didn’t know how.
Leo focused on his grandmother’s grave. The headstone had been put in a few weeks earlier and fresh sod placed.
Warm temperatures and plenty of rain had caused the grass to leap up around the markers and the stones.
Leo came to a stop.
There was indeed fresh grass growing upon her grave. Except for one place. Exactly where his grandmother’s heart should have been.
I do not think she is even here, he thought. She could have killed Denise Nadeau.
Leo turned around and started walking back the way he had come. He put his hands behind his back and clasped them. He kept his head bent and focused more at the chipped and cracked asphalt of the cemetery road than at anything around him.
“Leo?”
He looked up at the sound of Patience’s voice.
She wore a look of concern.
“Yes?” he asked pleasantly.
“Is all well?”
“I am not sure,” Leo answered.
“Is it with your Grandmother’s grave?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?” she asked.
Leo told her of the bare patch of earth. The absence of grass.
Patience shook her head, making a warding sign with one hand. “Your grandmother walks.”
“Where?” Leo asked. “And how? She is dead.”
“She is full of spite, Leo,” Patience said softly. “She will walk until she has slain those she must.”
Confirmation. “How might I find her?”
“You need to remember whom she despised,” Patience replied. “You need to remember those she might wish to harm.”
Leo nodded. “Thank you, Patience.”
“You are welcome, Leo,” Patience said. “Will I see you again?”
“Yes,” Leo answered. “I will be back.”
Leo turned his attention from the young woman and left the cemetery.
He needed to find out who it was his grandmother might wish to harm.
