She wasn't a bad person. She didn't worship the devil. She didn't harm anyone. The dead had been drawn to her since childhood. She had no control over it, but she knew that people would label her a necromancer. It usually had a negative connotation.
She sat in the beautiful old cemetery. For some reason cemeteries were peaceful to her, when the dead didn't want her attention. Cemeteries were comforting. She didn't feel alienated in them.
She was a good Catholic, so why did she have an affinity for the dead? She was afraid of what people at church would say if they knew of her abilities. They would call her evil.
She began to sing one of her favorite hymns. Her soprano voice carried far enough, but she rarely let anyone hear her sing by herself. Her family alone knew her voice well.
She wondered about the meaning of her life. God had given her a gift or allowed an ability. It couldn't be evil then. She had not sought it out. The dead came to her no matter how much the experience scared her in childhood and no matter how deep in denial she was as a young adolescent. It was taboo in Christianity, but what could she do?
She had prayed for God to take it away, but still it remained. Perhaps there were souls in Purgatory who needed her help. She just didn't know.
The moonlight kept the cemetery bright enough for her to see the beautiful statues and the variety of headstones. She sighed and shifted on the cushion she sat on. There was a large blanket under the cushion. She stretched her legs out and pushed her hair out of her face.
She thought about her grandfather. He had been dead for over three years, but she only saw him in dreams. Sometimes she felt his presence, especially in church during Communion. She missed him so much. It was a constant ache in her soul.
She touched her cross necklace. It was shiny and red. It was a sign of faith and a protection against demons. It had been blessed by her favorite priest.
Tears began to slide down her cheeks. She wiped clumsily at her heart shaped face and gripped the large cross tighter. She longed to be with her grandfather, and she often prayed to die.
Her grandfather had been a constant in her life from the day her mother came home from the hospital maternity ward. He held her as a baby and hugged her all through life. She missed his reassurance. She missed everything.
She screamed, knowing only God and those in heaven could hear her on this lonely night. No living human was around. The caretaker lived the equivalent of blocks away. Besides, he was on vacation.
She felt most alive at night. Darkness weighed heavy on her, but it was the darkness of mourning, not of night. Life was bleak right now. It was full of suffering. The pain was too much. Would it always be like this?
She rolled onto her back and stared up at the black sky. For a moment, she heard the angels singing. Then she only heard leaves in the breeze.
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