Gravestones stood like frozen sentinels, watchful of the unknowns entombed underneath. The goat tethered to the tree gave a nervous bleat as it halted abruptly upon reaching the limit of its rope. That’s how the dead must feel like, he mused, bound to the vicinity of burial as their memories and mortal forms dissolve into dust. It was almost impossible to think, let alone write in the cemetery but everything reminded him of what he didn’t want to become– dead, forgotten… stuck in the hood. With fresh resolve, he concentrated his thoughts on his first novel– his ticket to immortality.
© 2013 K.Z. Morano