Post by Madeleine Baudelaire&Russ Ford on Jan 1, 2008 20:08:25 GMT
Lylis Glen Cemetery, 28th December, 12.10
It didn't take her long to find the grave. She'd only been there once before, at the funeral, but every painful step was etched into her memory as though it had been burnt there.
The black granite gravestone was still the same as she remembered, still shiny, with the same words engraved there, clean-cut in the deep black stone.
Madeleine's eyes read over the words on the stone once, before she dropped to her knees before the stone.
The ground over the rows of graves was covered in a thick, fluffy white blanket of snow; the trees in the graveyard bare, stripped of their leaves and greenery...
And ironically, Madeleine thought, stripped of life.
"Hey, bro," she said, laying a bunch of winter wildflowers from the Lylis Glen forest. "Happy Christmas and all... I know I'm a bit late, but Mum and Dad were up everyday. I couldn't really face going... it's been a bit rough, to be honest." She sighed. "But I guess you know all about that. Anyway, I picked some of the flowers from Lylis; I know you liked those."
'A bit rough' didn't really cover it. She wouldn't admit it - but she was a wreck. Even to look at her, you could tell. She was far too pale, and her eyes were underlined by light violet shadows, blackberry juice staining her bleached white skin. Her clear eyes had darkened to an almost midnight shade, and her lips as though they never seen a smile.
The words that Lee had said to her had hit hard. Really hard. She had spent a lot of the journey home shape-shifted into a cat to keep her from crying, especially since she hadn't slept that night. The other part; she had found songs that summed up some of what she felt and so she'd listened to them - but on her iPod. Lee's she had put at the bottom of her case.
Those words had also hit hard.
She spoke again to the grave, softly. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I can't believe it's been over a year. I still miss you so much it’s scary. It was a bit easier when I saw you, but I still forget. When I woke up in the trailer today, I really did expect that you'd step out of the other trailer, yawning and rubbing your eyes." A small smile passed her lips at that. “I guess that was stupid of me. Lapse in memory. I seem to be getting a lot of those these days.”
She had thought that talking to a stone would be impossible, but it was all flowing out now…
“Mum and Dad are thrilled to have me home… well, I think Mum thinks I’m going mad, to be honest, but I think that’s just because of what I was like when I phoned her. We went to Nana’s house – she keeps saying that…” Madeleine broke off, swallowing. “That it’s only puppy love. That I’ll get over it in a few weeks. I know she means well, but it’s not really helping. Well, not helping at all. Mum just keeps trying to get me to talk about it, which the last thing I want to do. After talking to Jude, I did feel a little better, but it was… draining.”
She leant back, rocking on her knees, exhaling. This felt so wrong, talking to a stone in Shaun’s place. She knew he was under here, but… that couldn’t really be him. Shaun couldn’t be buried, rotting under there.
She hated that he’d been buried, because it left so much to the imagination. In her worse moments, she could imagine what his remains might look like, and it was awful, thinking of Shaun like that. He couldn’t be just a … a corpse. No. He had an afterlife, didn’t he? Madeleine had been there. She’d seen it. She knew that he wasn’t a corpse, he was healthy and happy up somewhere that she couldn’t find. Healthy and happy. Yeah.
But sometimes… well, right now, she was really doubting him. Really, really doubting him.
“Dad’s being great about it – he’s just leaving me to… I don’t know, grieve, or whatever process I’m going through. I don’t think it’s grieving. Or maybe it is, and there are those five steps, or whatever. I guess I just went from grief into anger there in about three seconds at that formal. Well, not anger. Rage is probably better. He… God, he was “dancing” with that French… thing. And it wasn’t just dancing, it was… her hands were all over him and his were around her waist and it hurt, Shaun, it hurt.”
Okay, take a breath. No law against breathing…
“Just… ugh. I don’t even know if anything happened with them, and I don’t… I don’t know if I want to know. Do I want to know? You probably saw it, do I want to know?”
No answer.
Huh. Well, had she really expected an answer? Did she really think that the black stone would reply to her?
“Well… yeah. I can’t ask anyway. I can’t… ugh. God. Why would he… how could he? I know… I know that I’m… I’m nothing-” it came out as little more than a whisper “- but surely there’s a line? Some shred of … I dunno, decency that stops people from doing that? He never would have done it before. That’s not Lee. That should help, shouldn’t it? Because it’s not really Lee. But … it is. It’s him… I don’t know. I don’t… know.
“I guess I shouldn’t really be talking to you about this all, not now. But it’s easier to talk to you about it, y’know? I guess even death doesn’t change that. And something tells me you won’t mind me talking about this.”
A raven landed on the grave next to her, the grave of Darcy Blake, bringing Madeleine’s eyes from the resolutely solid black, cold, stone headstone before her, to the only other sign of life in this cold, dead place. She watched it for a few seconds, and, when she found that the raven also wasn’t providing any solace to her thoughts, turned back to ‘Shaun’.
But it wasn’t Shaun.
Was it?
“It’s so stupid. It’s… this sucks. This really, really blows. Absolutely… sucks. And I know that I’m being selfish, but I can’t help it right now, because… I thought that it would be fine. I thought that when I woke up from that coma that that was the end of all this crap. You told me that it would be the end. You told me. You told me to go back, to go back for Lee, and now he’s gone Shaun, he’s gone.”
Madeleine’s voice was breaking up, her words spoken quickly and staccato, and getting louder. Breaking down wasn’t an option, because talking to Jude had drained her of tears, and wrung her tear ducts dry. “You told me to go back because of him – but now he doesn’t remember me, he d-doesn’t know me. And I’m alive, and I’m watching this and I’m hurting, Shaun, I am hurting and right now I wish I hadn’t listened to you, that I’m with you so I don’t have to go through this. But you, you … how could you do that and know that this was going to happen? You’re supposed to look after me, you’re my older brother, you’ve always protected me and now you’ve gone and done this. And then I get mad at you, and then I feel guilty because I shouldn’t be mad at you because you’re Shaun and part of me believes that you didn’t do it, and then I get mad at myself for feeling guilty and it’s just… confusing, and I hate it.”
Her voice descended to a quiet whisper now. “I hate this Shaun. I don’t want to be here. I miss him, and I miss you, and I hate it that I chose him and now I’ve lost both of you. How does… how the hell does that happen?”
A raindrop landed on the top of her head, and she glanced up at the sky as more grey, clinging droplets of water fell.
“I guess that’s my signal to go, then,” she sighed, slowly standing up and pulling her wool coat around her. “I miss you, Shaun, I’m sorry for ranting, and I’m sorry for yelling. And I’m sorry for blaming you for all of this… but I can’t help it.”
* once I wandered, now I rest
It didn't take her long to find the grave. She'd only been there once before, at the funeral, but every painful step was etched into her memory as though it had been burnt there.
The black granite gravestone was still the same as she remembered, still shiny, with the same words engraved there, clean-cut in the deep black stone.
"Shaun Christopher Baudelaire
17 August 1987 - 29th October 2006
Beloved son, brother, friend
Quondam ego peregrinus, iam ego sileo."*
17 August 1987 - 29th October 2006
Beloved son, brother, friend
Quondam ego peregrinus, iam ego sileo."*
Madeleine's eyes read over the words on the stone once, before she dropped to her knees before the stone.
The ground over the rows of graves was covered in a thick, fluffy white blanket of snow; the trees in the graveyard bare, stripped of their leaves and greenery...
And ironically, Madeleine thought, stripped of life.
"Hey, bro," she said, laying a bunch of winter wildflowers from the Lylis Glen forest. "Happy Christmas and all... I know I'm a bit late, but Mum and Dad were up everyday. I couldn't really face going... it's been a bit rough, to be honest." She sighed. "But I guess you know all about that. Anyway, I picked some of the flowers from Lylis; I know you liked those."
'A bit rough' didn't really cover it. She wouldn't admit it - but she was a wreck. Even to look at her, you could tell. She was far too pale, and her eyes were underlined by light violet shadows, blackberry juice staining her bleached white skin. Her clear eyes had darkened to an almost midnight shade, and her lips as though they never seen a smile.
The words that Lee had said to her had hit hard. Really hard. She had spent a lot of the journey home shape-shifted into a cat to keep her from crying, especially since she hadn't slept that night. The other part; she had found songs that summed up some of what she felt and so she'd listened to them - but on her iPod. Lee's she had put at the bottom of her case.
Those words had also hit hard.
She spoke again to the grave, softly. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I can't believe it's been over a year. I still miss you so much it’s scary. It was a bit easier when I saw you, but I still forget. When I woke up in the trailer today, I really did expect that you'd step out of the other trailer, yawning and rubbing your eyes." A small smile passed her lips at that. “I guess that was stupid of me. Lapse in memory. I seem to be getting a lot of those these days.”
She had thought that talking to a stone would be impossible, but it was all flowing out now…
“Mum and Dad are thrilled to have me home… well, I think Mum thinks I’m going mad, to be honest, but I think that’s just because of what I was like when I phoned her. We went to Nana’s house – she keeps saying that…” Madeleine broke off, swallowing. “That it’s only puppy love. That I’ll get over it in a few weeks. I know she means well, but it’s not really helping. Well, not helping at all. Mum just keeps trying to get me to talk about it, which the last thing I want to do. After talking to Jude, I did feel a little better, but it was… draining.”
She leant back, rocking on her knees, exhaling. This felt so wrong, talking to a stone in Shaun’s place. She knew he was under here, but… that couldn’t really be him. Shaun couldn’t be buried, rotting under there.
She hated that he’d been buried, because it left so much to the imagination. In her worse moments, she could imagine what his remains might look like, and it was awful, thinking of Shaun like that. He couldn’t be just a … a corpse. No. He had an afterlife, didn’t he? Madeleine had been there. She’d seen it. She knew that he wasn’t a corpse, he was healthy and happy up somewhere that she couldn’t find. Healthy and happy. Yeah.
But sometimes… well, right now, she was really doubting him. Really, really doubting him.
“Dad’s being great about it – he’s just leaving me to… I don’t know, grieve, or whatever process I’m going through. I don’t think it’s grieving. Or maybe it is, and there are those five steps, or whatever. I guess I just went from grief into anger there in about three seconds at that formal. Well, not anger. Rage is probably better. He… God, he was “dancing” with that French… thing. And it wasn’t just dancing, it was… her hands were all over him and his were around her waist and it hurt, Shaun, it hurt.”
Okay, take a breath. No law against breathing…
“Just… ugh. I don’t even know if anything happened with them, and I don’t… I don’t know if I want to know. Do I want to know? You probably saw it, do I want to know?”
No answer.
Huh. Well, had she really expected an answer? Did she really think that the black stone would reply to her?
“Well… yeah. I can’t ask anyway. I can’t… ugh. God. Why would he… how could he? I know… I know that I’m… I’m nothing-” it came out as little more than a whisper “- but surely there’s a line? Some shred of … I dunno, decency that stops people from doing that? He never would have done it before. That’s not Lee. That should help, shouldn’t it? Because it’s not really Lee. But … it is. It’s him… I don’t know. I don’t… know.
“I guess I shouldn’t really be talking to you about this all, not now. But it’s easier to talk to you about it, y’know? I guess even death doesn’t change that. And something tells me you won’t mind me talking about this.”
A raven landed on the grave next to her, the grave of Darcy Blake, bringing Madeleine’s eyes from the resolutely solid black, cold, stone headstone before her, to the only other sign of life in this cold, dead place. She watched it for a few seconds, and, when she found that the raven also wasn’t providing any solace to her thoughts, turned back to ‘Shaun’.
But it wasn’t Shaun.
Was it?
“It’s so stupid. It’s… this sucks. This really, really blows. Absolutely… sucks. And I know that I’m being selfish, but I can’t help it right now, because… I thought that it would be fine. I thought that when I woke up from that coma that that was the end of all this crap. You told me that it would be the end. You told me. You told me to go back, to go back for Lee, and now he’s gone Shaun, he’s gone.”
Madeleine’s voice was breaking up, her words spoken quickly and staccato, and getting louder. Breaking down wasn’t an option, because talking to Jude had drained her of tears, and wrung her tear ducts dry. “You told me to go back because of him – but now he doesn’t remember me, he d-doesn’t know me. And I’m alive, and I’m watching this and I’m hurting, Shaun, I am hurting and right now I wish I hadn’t listened to you, that I’m with you so I don’t have to go through this. But you, you … how could you do that and know that this was going to happen? You’re supposed to look after me, you’re my older brother, you’ve always protected me and now you’ve gone and done this. And then I get mad at you, and then I feel guilty because I shouldn’t be mad at you because you’re Shaun and part of me believes that you didn’t do it, and then I get mad at myself for feeling guilty and it’s just… confusing, and I hate it.”
Her voice descended to a quiet whisper now. “I hate this Shaun. I don’t want to be here. I miss him, and I miss you, and I hate it that I chose him and now I’ve lost both of you. How does… how the hell does that happen?”
A raindrop landed on the top of her head, and she glanced up at the sky as more grey, clinging droplets of water fell.
“I guess that’s my signal to go, then,” she sighed, slowly standing up and pulling her wool coat around her. “I miss you, Shaun, I’m sorry for ranting, and I’m sorry for yelling. And I’m sorry for blaming you for all of this… but I can’t help it.”
* once I wandered, now I rest
