Ink Stains, Volume I

He stared at the head of the grave, not moving a limb. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and made out the slick surface of the coffin. He waited, staring at the spot from where he thought he heard the knock. His lips and cheeks shivered uncontrollably from the cold, but his eyes remained more still than a dead man’s. When no fourth knock came, Abel swallowed and took a slow, deliberate step forward. He stopped and looked back at the ladder. It stood there in the gloom like a stairway to heaven. Abel swallowed and turned back at the head of the grave.

  “Gonna sing this song, down in the ground till the end of time,” he whispered and slowly went about the task of clearing the sides and surface of the coffin. The ticking sound slowed and softened but was still there. With the job done, Abel dropped the shovel. Knees on the closed lower half of the coffin, Abel pulled the top lid open. It didn’t open with a horror movie creak but, for one ghastly second, Abel pictured red glowing eyes staring back at him. That sight would’ve given his old heart a shock too much to cope with. The bad light made it difficult to make out any specific features, but Abel saw the vague form of the corpse’s face in the darkness. It was like looking at a ghost’s face. He heard rain drops hitting dead skin. Abel reached forward. His hand brushed over the blazer’s lapels, feeling the hollowness of the corpse under the smooth fabric, and disappeared inside. It was like putting ones hand into a trapdoor spider’s lair. He clasped the pocket watch. Touching it, feeling its coolness, sent shivers down his spine. He pulled it out and without even looking at it, raised it above his head. The tiny chain dangled limply above his head.

  “Going to break you, good and solid.” But his hand froze. He slowly brought the watch down and looked at it, squinting his eyes. The ticking stopped.

  “Huh?”

  His chest heaved, his drenched face contorted in confusion. Cocking his head, he listened. He could hear the rain and the heavy splotches hitting the corpse’s suit. But no ticking.

  “Can’t be,” Abel whispered. He brought the watch to his ear and listened again. Nothing. He shook it, brought it back up and listened some more. And again, nothing.

  He stared at the watch a moment longer. He growled, raised the watch, and brought it down hard, repeatedly smashing it against the side of the coffin. It crunched under his hand. Little shards of glass shredded his palm, but he didn’t stop until he no longer had the energy to go on. He slumped over, totally exhausted. He tossed the pieces onto the corpse’s chest and closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, and he breathed in deeply, appreciating the quiet.

  After opening his eyes, he turned around and stepped to the ladder without closing the casket. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, looked at his hand and realized it wasn’t a tear. A big, black blob lay on his palm. Abel froze. More gunk seeped out his right eye. He turned back to the corpse. A soft gasp escaped his mouth. “Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, no,” he whimpered. Open eyes stared up out of the corpse’s head. Its hand moved and grasped the broken pieces of the watch.

  10.