Heirate mich

Father Ohan stepped into the main part of the chapel, his eyes
adjusting quickly to the dimming light in the church. The sun was
quickly setting. A frail figure lay crumpled in front of the alter,
eyes almost unseeing as it stared up at the great cross that decorated
the alter. He looked wasted, his skin losing it's color, growing
brittle, his eyes glazing over with dementia, his hair a greasy mass
that sat on his forehead like an unbrushed pelt. The priest felt his
heart sink. Richard Baumann was the young man's name. He had been
steadily getting worse since he lost his fianc? in an accident, exactly
one year before. She had been on a bus, that lost it's brakes while
trying to take a sharp turn, and went off the cliff, plunging down the
rocks, and erupting into flames. No one survived it. Richard spent
nearly everyday here, or out by her grave.

Richard felt the drawing of the light, rathe
r then saw it, and got up, to his feet, looking towards the door. He
felt like a zombie, no life left in him. Just an empty husk being
constantly driven by a need greater then himself. He moved out the door
easily.
Which made the father breath a deep sigh of relief. He felt uneasy
about kicking the poor, broken man, and he needed to close. He paused
in the doorway, watching the young man trudge along the fence to the
small little cemetery. It had turned into some kind of ritual. The
Father closed the door, and turned to sweep out the church.

Richard moved stiffly, his eyes seeing only the white marble
headstone, his hand trailing along the whitewashed wood of the fence
not noticing the little splinters that got embedded into his skin. The
sun hadn't quite set yet, and he could still see the letters spelled
out upon the headstone. He sank down upon his knees and breathed in the
twilight air, smelling only jasmine and violets, Alicia's favorite
scent. He murmured her name, too softly even for him to hear. His
fingers traced the name, and he said it over and over to himself. A red
rooster, perched on the fence watched with complacent eyes, every move
the young man made. It spoke, in a soft, sweet tone, that sent shivers
down Richards spine,
"I beat only for you, only for you." It was Alicia's voice, and
Richard stared dumbfounded, "Only for you." The rooster repeated
itself. Richard laughed softly, and stared at the rooster,
"Yes Alicia, only for me!" He sounded so happy. He dug his fingers
into the soft soil of the grave and could feel Alicia trail her fingers
along the back of his neck, could hear her laughter. He shivered, his
breath catching, a tear in the corner of his eye. He looked down at the
grave, "Alicia, you must be so cold, so stuffy down there. You don't
want to be down there, do you?" He picked up a nearby rock, perfectly
formed like a tiny shovel, bowled for scooping. He used it to start
digging at her grave, thinking only of her, the feel of her satiny
skin, the ring of her merry laughter. He grew into a frenzy, his
breathing harsh, dirt flying everywhere, making a fine mat upon the
ground, and getting under his fingernails, making his skin dark, his
clothes dark. He didn't notice, he didn't care. All he wanted was
Alicia. His Alicia.
It was under the full man, that his frenzy reached it's pinnacle
point, and he collapsed onto a bed of soft earth, curled up like a baby
in his hole, that he had made. He wept, until he could weep no more, no
tears to spare for his love, and his breathing evened out into an
uneasy sleep.

He remembered her, remembered how perfect she was, her ivory skin, her
cat-green eyes, and auburn hair. She was upset, and her eyes had turned
red with crying. She looked up at the stricken Richard, not knowing
quite what to say. Finally, she said, her voice throbbing with hurt,
"This is what I mean to you Richard?" Richard wanted desperately to
hold her, to assure her that it was just a big mistake, she his
greatest love, he didn't want to hurt her, ever. "Alicia-" Alicia's
eyes hardened and she said coldly, "Don't say anything. Not a word
Richard." Beside her was a bag, packed and ready to leave. Her eyes
lingered on Richard for just one sorrowful moment, and then she said,
softly, coldly, "You loved me so love, you lost our wedding rings in a
poker game. I need a break, Richard. I am going to go catch the
greyhound, and visit my sister." Richard felt something inside himself
twist into a painful knot, and he tried to grab her, but she dodged him
deftly. She shook her head, and walked out into the rain, dramatic like
an old romantic movie. Richard didn't think she would really leave, and
couldn't bare to have her gone from him. She was his love. He broke
down crying, a sad wailing that reverberated into the night.

Except the right was over. A grey dawn woke Richard, and he raised a
hand to his cheek, feeling the dampness of tears, that had made a trail
through the grime. He took a deep breath, and noticed the rooster still
perched on the fence. The rooster cackled,
"Richard! Come Richard!" Richard nodded and said,
"I will come to you, Alicia, and never let you go, never let you go!"
he began his frantic digging again, making promises to his dead love
under his breath, and hit the wood of the coffin, the ring against wood
melodious to his ear,
"Richard! Almost here! Richard!" Richard let out a strangled cry as he
beat the wood of the coffin with his rock until it began to splinter,
then he pulled it apart with his bare hands, desperate to reach his
love.
She was there, no longer the lively beauty she had been before.
Richard didn't see it. He saw her, still, with a slightly curved smile
to her lips, her hair laid out around her like a halo. He sighed, a
release, and dragged his love with him, out of the grave. Her skin was
liquidy, like smooth rubber covering something vast, like a water
balloon. Her skin had taken a grayish purple pallor. He didn't see it,
he rocked Alicia in his arms, crying and grateful, happy even. Her
kissed her bloated lips, and felt her kiss him back. He continued to
rock her, and rubbed his cheek against hers, whispering promises all
the while, about he would never leave her, never. Her skin began to
split and a dark fluid, viscous and the rotted remains of her flesh,
seeped out, soaking him in filth and a stench that no one else would've
been able to handle. He just cried against her, smelling violets in her
hair, jasmine on her skin. The rooster cackled,
"Dead!" he crowed, "She's dead! Gone!" Richard looked up at the
cackling rooster, a dark hatred filing his eyes. Richard gently laid
his love on the ground, brushing her cheek with a finger, and
murmured,
"You wait for me, Alicia, ok? I will be right back, and I will never
leave again, but you wait just a moment for me?" He imagined that she
nodded her head, and smiled, sweetly, lovingly. He approached the
rooster, with a slight lumbering to his step. The rooster watched this,
an insolent glitter to his eye, as of challenging Richard to do
something. "Don't you tell lies.' He hissed. He reached out and the
rooster didn't move so much as feather, allowing itself to be grabbed.
Richard pulled the roosters head off with all his strength, the blood
exploding all over him. He shivered, something at the back of his mid
saying that the rooster was right, she's dead! It hissed. Richard shook
his head vehemently, and said, "No, no, no, no." he took off his
clothes, and wiped some of the guck off him, then crawled back to his
love, and taking her back into his arms again,
"See, Alicia, here I am." He smiled, and rocked he, humming a song.
'See, maybe we can go home Alicia, and be happy, forever Alicia!"
Alicia just smiled quietly in his arms.

Father Ohan held out his key, to open up the doors of the church, but
something caught his attention, making him uneasy. He gazed out toward
the cemetery, confused at first by what he was seeing. He walked toward
the cemetery, a putrid smell, like something left at the back of the
fridge too long, invaded his nostrils and made him gag, long before he
reached the cemetery fence. He didn't need to go any farther. He could
se things more clearly. Dirt was prayed all over the cemetery, clothes,
and blood. A mangled mass of red feathers indicated the rooster, Jim,
that he greeted every morning. Father Ohan felt queasy. There was
Richard, the rotting corpse of his fianc? in his arms. Father Ohan knew
that he had finally gone too far out over the edge, to the point of no
return. He had better go call sheriff Dempsey, get him over here to
deal with the poor, lost man.
Father Ohan felt depressed that morning, watching as the cops sedated
the shrieking, disturbed man, watched as white covered men tried to
clean up after the mess made, and seeing more then one person wretch.
How fragile the mind was, he thought, and went back to his writing,
trying to not to think about Richard any more.