The Cemetery Prayer

The days were long, and they were seemingly going to string endlessly together. In a town where few ideas about this and that float around; a town where people are content with their morning coffee and catching the biggest fish, you find boredom. A typical thing for Jason to do was to just sit in the cemetery, and think about the dead. Often times he did as such because you only feel alive among the dead. But that is neither here nor there. Everyone thinks a bit differently, and from time to time somebody will say something that will knock you out. Today was Jason's day.

He awoke at about ten in the morning, sleeping in after getting stoned the night before. Odd thoughts crossed his mind the previous night, about proving this and that to so and so for who knows what end. None of that really matters. The point is, in the depths of the cemetery, he found one so seemingly alive that he felt dead as well. As he sat there pondering the ages of the deceased and thinking about their names, a strange redheaded girl in a bright yellow shirt with flowers and faces on it noticed him sitting there. He would have chosen to not be bothered, for he felt simply cool to be sitting alone content. But when oddness strikes the minds of two individuals at once; they connect for a fleeting glimpse into the living soul.

"What are you doing?" she said walking up to him.

"Nothing really, praying for the dead," he said. He got a kick out of that.

"The dead! Aren't you scared of their ghosts?"

He cracked a smile. "No."

"Listen, you can't mess around with this stuff. You're going to get in trouble with God if you keep doing this."

He burst out laughing. "Why?"

"Why?!" She seemed furious. "Because God wants you to go to church and stuff. You have to be careful what you're doing or you'll wake up the dead spirits!"

"I'm not scared of spirits, I'm just here," he said casually.

"Listen to me. Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior! Do you believe?"

"I do. I didn't put those crosses up there. But that's not the point. I'm just here minding my own business because I don't have anything else to do. What are you doing here?"

"Me? I'm not the one with the problem. Are you sure you're not a goth kid or an emo?"

"What?"

"What kind of kid are you? A goth or an emo?"

"I...I guess I don't know what kind of kid I am. Spiritual I guess."

"Really," she said biting her nails. "Is that what you call it. Spiritual. I think you're just trying to impress everyone. I don't think you're a neat kid at all."

"Okay, listen here. I didn't do anything to you. I don't care what you say to me, but the cars will drive past and the birds will chirp, and the trains will echo. Just go away."

"That has nothing to do with it. You need Jesus."

"No. I know about Jesus. I just don't like you. Let's leave Jesus out of the fact that I just plain don't like you. You're a ginger and I don't like them one bit. They're creepy. And I'm just trying to mind my own business doing what I do in MY cemetery, and you're raising Hell."

"No. You're going to Hell if you don't be careful."

"I know, I know, but will you please just go away?"

"Fine. I'll go. But don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Alrighty! See ya!"

The ginger girl walked away into the distance and Jason sat there; staring at the tombstone.