It was a musky, dark night. I could feel the eeriness of the evening through the wind. Cool, long, whistling breezes through the gravestone clouds. My death was upon me this night, but I didn’t care. I’ve lived in pure numb bliss for a while. I had enough. I don’t feel anything anymore, can you imagine how that is? Probably not, but bare with me for this short little while.

It all started on Halloween night last year. I wasn’t trick-or-treating like everyone else tonight, instead I took a walk and arrived in front of the grave yard. I don’t know why I ended up here, I just followed my feet to my next destination. Graveyards are just like neighborhoods, to me. Everyone has their own property and they are allowed visitors, but the residents live six feet under.

I turned into the yard and walked through the thick fog and the darkness, arriving in front of a grave I felt was luring me towards itself. Standing for a minute in front of the grave, the aura I felt off of it was nothing weaker less than robust. I sat down right in front of the ample stone. Right at the head of the lot, I used the sleeve of my striped cotton shirt to wipe off the front of the stone that was coated with dirt and precipitation, revealing the name carved deep into the granite. Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs and my chest and a shiver ran down my spine as I read the carving aloud in a low whisper, “Leon Greene”. Leon Greene. I took a shaky breath and ran my fingers through the grooves of each individual letter on the stone over and over again. A sole tear fell from my left eye, leaving my vision cloudy and my mind a bit daunt.

Leon Greene committed suicide last Halloween, he was just fifteen years old, making him two years older than I was. Leon and I were not friends, but I could say that I loved him. I probably sound stupid saying this, as I barely knew him, but in a way I knew him better than anyone else. We had a secret understanding of each other, or at least I did of him. Really, I could have saved his life, but what’s the point of that though anymore? I just think of joining him now.

The time I spent that night at the grave, I thought of nothing more than him and how I wanted to join him. I feel like Leon and I were communicating somehow while I was sitting there with him. A connection that defied all the laws of science and life that never seemed to appeal to me, said that spirits don’t live on, but oh they do. They really do, because that night while I sat at Leon’s grave, I spoke to him and he spoke back. I sat there and whispered all the things that I have ever felt right into where he was buried. I was now laying as well, right with him there, and as I fell in love with Leon even more than before, I felt him whisper to me. Leon wanted me to join him. I told him that I would.

That very night Leon entered my cold, numb body and warmed my soul. The first feeling of life I had had in so long. The anesthetized feeling throughout my body thawed for that while when I felt Leon. Tears fell from my eyes as my body felt again. My body felt love. I knew I wouldn't feel anything like it ever again with anyone else.

As I walked back that night and decided that I would wait. I would give myself time and I would give my family time and my friends. I visited Leon every day at his grave and I felt him greet me every time, longing me to come to him. I would wait a year.




It is October 31st again, exactly one year since I felt anything at all. Everyone was busy. I was ready to go, ready to leave this prude world. I accepted the fact and I knew that I would soon be free. I wanted to be free, I couldn’t take this anymore. I got all dressed up and I descended the wooden staircase to the basement in the home where I had spent all my childhood.

Fifteen years was a long time to live, and I made it this far.

With the rope in my hands and my letter slightly sticking out of my dress pocket. I peer into the full length mirror that stood on the cold, grey cement floor next to the washing machine and examine myself. My long, wavy auburn locks were tied back with a crimson red ribbon. My small, frail figure was dressed in a pale pink, knee length dress that nearly blended in with my ivory skin. My feet were tucked inside a pair of my favorite black flats. Once I made sure that I looked more than presentable, I glided over to the place where I planned to hang the rope. I found the hook on the ceiling board, climbed up on a stool so I was able to reach, and fastened the end of the rope to it. Stepping down from the stool, I went to the sink and cabinet grabbing pain killers and a glass of water. I tossed back about ten and walked back over to my spot. I climbed back onto the stool. I said a quick prayer, told Leon that I would soon be with him, made sure the letter was in my pocket (again), and placed my head through the loop of the rope. Taking a deep breath, things were already a little hazy from the pills, I let my feet slide off the edge of the stool. I went into a blissful darkness, and I felt Leon with me, and he told me that everything was now alright.