The cemetery was the size of a small town and half buried under mounds of beach sand. It was one of those former seaside graveyard turned no-go zone due to rapid erosion. The council was meant to be transferring everyone and their stones to consecrated grounds further inland but the process was cut short during the credit crunch of 2007. With no funding they just fenced off the area and moved whatever remains worked their way onto the beach as and when necessary.
People used to volunteer to do it but they rarely lasted for more than one shift. There's a fine line between seeing a decaying body on TV and picking one up out of damp sand. Depending on how fresh the body is and how long it's been left out you could end up leaving clumps of it behind in the sand or worse. Nothing brings your breakfast up quite as fast as the sight of someone's rotting innards plopping onto the sand and splitting apart.
Mostly they're just left on the beach now, strung out along the water line (now called Death's Door), their bleached bones jutting out here and there, empty skulls smiling out at the living almost mockingly. Needless to say that part of the beach is rarely visited unless it's someone's anniversary and they've come to add more flowers to the metal fencing which looks more like a florists shop dumped in brown paint. The damp sea air makes everything rot faster.
Not all of the cemetery is blocked off. The graves furthest inland are still safe to visit, though they too are slowly being covered by the beach and dragged out like a lazy cat scoops food towards itself. The two that stand out the most, far different from the plainer headstones dotted about the dunes, were twin mausoleums built only days apart by twins who couldn't stand each other in life and wanted to be remembered for far more in death.
The first twin was Eliza Strand, born first, died first, everything she did was done before her twin. Her resting place is shaped like the church she was married in. Carved out of granite with proper slate tiles on the roof, she made sure she'd be remembered for all of the firsts she took over her twin.
Her twin was Ezekiel Strand and never managed to walk out of his sister's shadow. Rumour had it that the only first he had over her was that he was the first of them to kill in cold blood. He let her have her final first as he smothered her in her sleep while her husband was out drinking. At least, that's what the rumours say and you know what they say about small town rumours.
Take them with a pinch of sand.
Ezekiel's tomb was built to resemble the town library, as if in homage to all of the books he failed to finish writing or to the alleged confession he signed on his deathbed that went missing alongside his last will and testament.
People used to volunteer to do it but they rarely lasted for more than one shift. There's a fine line between seeing a decaying body on TV and picking one up out of damp sand. Depending on how fresh the body is and how long it's been left out you could end up leaving clumps of it behind in the sand or worse. Nothing brings your breakfast up quite as fast as the sight of someone's rotting innards plopping onto the sand and splitting apart.
Mostly they're just left on the beach now, strung out along the water line (now called Death's Door), their bleached bones jutting out here and there, empty skulls smiling out at the living almost mockingly. Needless to say that part of the beach is rarely visited unless it's someone's anniversary and they've come to add more flowers to the metal fencing which looks more like a florists shop dumped in brown paint. The damp sea air makes everything rot faster.
Not all of the cemetery is blocked off. The graves furthest inland are still safe to visit, though they too are slowly being covered by the beach and dragged out like a lazy cat scoops food towards itself. The two that stand out the most, far different from the plainer headstones dotted about the dunes, were twin mausoleums built only days apart by twins who couldn't stand each other in life and wanted to be remembered for far more in death.
The first twin was Eliza Strand, born first, died first, everything she did was done before her twin. Her resting place is shaped like the church she was married in. Carved out of granite with proper slate tiles on the roof, she made sure she'd be remembered for all of the firsts she took over her twin.
Her twin was Ezekiel Strand and never managed to walk out of his sister's shadow. Rumour had it that the only first he had over her was that he was the first of them to kill in cold blood. He let her have her final first as he smothered her in her sleep while her husband was out drinking. At least, that's what the rumours say and you know what they say about small town rumours.
Take them with a pinch of sand.
Ezekiel's tomb was built to resemble the town library, as if in homage to all of the books he failed to finish writing or to the alleged confession he signed on his deathbed that went missing alongside his last will and testament.
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