Fragments Gallery
Reflections: Burial
I'm at a café making this record now. However I don't have too much time to write, the procession is moving away. Now I'm just waiting for the server to return with my cheque; I figured while waiting I might as well scrawl down a few words. Now onto the important bits.
I have just seen a procession headed down the street. However this is no ordinary procession. You see this group isn't really there. Well they aren't there now anyways. They’re reflections. You see I have a gift; sometimes I catch glimpses of the past. I know of no one else who can see as I do and neither will I tell anyone else as they may believe I'm crazy. But I’m not crazy, I’m sure of it. I’ve had proof that what I see really has happened. However in spite of that other than this journal I keep no record of my findings. Other people would not understand as I do.
Anyways back to the reflection. After wandering through the woods this morning I had decided to stop at this café I am now at for a cup of coffee. After about ten minutes I happened to look out onto the street. It was then I noticed a commotion from far down the road. I had continued to watch it out of boredom at first but then growing curiosity.
In the beginning when watching it grow closer I had noticed nothing out of the ordinary, it just looked as though some sort of procession was making its way through town. Then I realized that the cars on the busy street were in fact not part of the procession as they were moving down the road at a significantly faster clip than the area which seemed to be the center of the activity. My curiosity had then been stoked so I asked for my cheque.
Over the last few minutes I have watched this procession approaching me, and I can now say for sure that it is not part of our time. Even now they are drawing along side of me; I guess it is now time to stop rambling about the how and where of why I'm writing but rather to tell you what I am seeing.
In front of me I am watching two lines of horsemen escort a horse drawn cart down the center of the road. The common traffic of this era continues to pass through the procession as if it is not there, and I guess in truth it actually is not real. Regardless, on the back of the cart there is a large box covered with a muddied white piece of fabric. Now, as the horsemen are closer, I can see that they as well are splashed with mud. Their clothing drips and the horses are slick with liquid. One man shakes water from his head. It must be raining in their time.
From their solemn expressions and the size of the box resting on the cart I would assume that this is some sort of funeral procession.
I can see the server approaching with my cheque, I will write more later, but for now I must follow those horsemen.
My apologies for my hastily written prose before this. Earlier I had a lot to say in little time, I didn't have the time to consider my words too carefully.
We have now reached our destination. The horsemen lowered the casket into the ground a few minutes ago. One of them is now speaking over the grave. Since I can't hear their words I figured it was a good time to continue my account.
After leaving the café I followed the procession to the edge of town and out into the woods. It was funny; I had been walking through these woods earlier this morning hoping for another glimpse into the past. Imagine my shock when I found myself following the procession along the same paths I had walked this morning…
Eventually we had reached this site. The men had immediately dismounted and moved to the cart. Smoothly they lifted the casket from the cart and with no pomp or ceremony lowered the box into the ground. It was after the casket hit the bottom that one had stepped forwards to begin what I must assume is his speech.
Before sitting down here I went over to examine the grave site. The grave is beneath a large oak, today there is no sign that anyone was ever buried here, however I must assume that when the grave was filled in there must have been a wooden cross or a similar marker pounded into the ground to mark the site.
The one has now stopped talking and all of the men have moved forwards to begin filling in the grave. They are beginning to fade as I watch. Now they are gone.
I think I'll remain for a few minutes to see if they reappear, however I think they're gone.
I wonder though, why would they bury someone way out here rather than at the old cemetery? Is this event older than that cemetery? Was the person they buried involved in some unspeakable crime which led them to bury the person away from the rest of their dead? I wonder...