Haunting Province (A Short Story)

Haunting Province


We watched a light that was flickering like a lit candle in the middle of a dark headstone at night and were astounded to think of what else it should be that could stand for such things that the light of a soul would contend to hold for the future and all eternities as would be as lasting as the dirt they were consumed inside the earth from which they were born, and in memorial of their name, to light the shadows of darkened changes upon eternal recreation of the place, we may only visit and which they now rest in eternal peace of the angels that guard them. The wind had woken demons in flack upon the exploding heavens that had started as suddenly as the last thoughts of the headstones candle flame transpired. Rain began to pound the ground and earth below our feet and the vehicle we had arrived in was being beaten by the force of the storm. I had reflected on the idea that the candle flame had in fact been left for someone who had been accustomed to a light in dark places that could warn them to make clear sight of hidden obscurities and offer them some degree of comfort to make them able to discern sudden movements so they could sleep for eternity without being disturbed. The winds were drawing the soil and the leaves in front of us in time with the chilling cold and heavy drops of rain falling and striking the ground to be compatible with the looming circle of dark shadows that had brought us to the sight of mysteries that past breezes had blown in from transitions of the tides that destiny would allow to be shown upon the cycle of eternal keepsake and the light that is held in question of the sights where no man or woman has interfered. We got back inside our black Holden panel Van and as quickly as I could say, “Don’t think,  but just suppose that someone or, something is trying to keep us here”, I was told in no mean terms as quickly as possible to get inside and lock the doors, as the friend I had driven there with planted his foot on the accelerator hard enough to spin the wheels in haste of a speedy exit so that we hopefully end up outside the gates before thought could lend any more words to the choice of tortured lurking nightmares. As quickly as the dirt had been struck with the tune of the tyres, there was a grabbing and dragging sound that alerted the force of which the peddle was pushed forward and until the van had in fact been dragged outside the gates within the strength of as much steam as could be mustered to coincide with safe arrivals. My friend George, as soon as we were out and in front of the entrance to the cemetery asked me to get outside and look underneath the van to see what was scrapping the ground so badly. I was no sooner underneath when I clearly saw that the muffler was sitting on the road and the pipe it was connected with was split in half, until the image of the fact it had not been tightened properly came into my mind along with the time it could now take too repair took over leaving me to get back up and relay what happened and walk off to a large double story house with the heavy pouring rain obscuring our sight but for the space inside the doorway which I would have to wait to find out if we could get the spanner we needed to get out of the weather and return to somewhere that was lit and dry. I knocked on the door that was at the top of a dark staircase and a tall skinny man with short blonde hair opened it to face me and I asked if he had a spanner at all, I told him what happened and waited to hear him reply telling me if he had one or not. He said that he may and went to look; and I noticed the deep base note of his voice that I could remember being similar-to the voice of Lurch from the Adams Family, and their spooky mansion that we watched every afternoon on television a few years earlier. Botany cemetery had two gates, one at the back-left hand side and one at the front just around the corner from where we were now waiting. The tall skinny Lurch man, returned with a cheap pair of pliers which although being as he said was the only thing he could find for us, was pretty well useless. George took the pliers and got underneath the car, and although what he had to work with was no aid, it was pouring rain so heavily that any assistance would be a huge inspiration, that may lead us away from nightmares that arise in scenes just like this, set with haunted visitations of the dark souls that forever reside within the chains and bonds of limbo and purgatory that contain them and until such light is lowered from the heavens in judgement of the eternal winds that change dreams in inspiration of the ghosts that rise in examination of the pasts we came. So being as it is that any alteration to this situation would be an ultimate improvement in which we could hopefully leave soon I was left to wait shortly with baited breath as George tinkered with what looked like a dark constrained mess under the car which should have taken longer than the minute or so it took for him to be off the ground and back in the driver’s seat and ready to leave before the words presto could be clearly heard coming from his closed lips in anticipation of the same level of prompt assurance in light of a new day on the horizon, beginning with us being able to return home that night and be off in such time as would leave us enough sleep to imagine anything better that may come to mind with the image of a hopefully bright morning ahead of us. We only made it just to the corner of the street when the muffler once again was dragging along the ground. All-of a-sudden, out of nowhere at least ten nuns appeared at the front door of a row of single story units and we asked if they had a spanner. One of them returned with a shifting spanner and in two minutes allowing for the fact we had to make sure the muffler would not fall off again we were finished and the nuns then proceeded to all get together and push start us to ensure we could leave and we were privileged to have received the right help we needed to be able to return home. As we drove ahead along the road at the side of the low-lit cemetery you could see the yellow light at the base and in between the graves reflecting from outside the shadows of the headstones and the water below them from the falling rain. In the depth of shifting changes dark silhouettes flashed before the clear view of concrete on the side of the road and the passing images cast by the deep light of a clean get away. I watched as reflections of the time we spent gained to present the steady sound of the engine in time with changing gears and the comfort of a sure journey to the highway on the road back home. The rain had only just stopped for as much time as could have been forgotten in the ten minutes previous-to our leaving when out of nowhere it seemed possible to just appear before, beside and in front of us, we were joined by around thirty demon black Harley Davidsons that may have had more colour if they could be seen more clearly than the low yellow light on Botany road and Georges tinted windscreens would allow. The sound of the exhaust pipes dragged images of the eternal resting place we had just left from the depths of hell and exploding winds and light on the horizon as if heavy cannon fire in the distance was reporting to a band of rising demons that were now upturning the earth before us to raise the dead. As quickly as they had appeared and in all respect of the shadows they came, the passing highway returned them to the traffic of the adjoining road from the city that led to the tunnel below the runway at mascot airport, and the motor cycles were consumed inside the depth with the low loud deep echoes they engineered still audible from the beginning and long length of the tunnel, that you can see from the front start with a line of strip lights that illuminate the traffic inside where the bikes were quickly submerged as they accelerated into the distance and into the future towards the exit, until the noise of them became as familiar as the sound of reporting thunder that echoed once for every mile of the surrounding ground and skyline that it shook, until it was unclear how far away they were even though you could still hear them and even though they must have been now, miles away.