A Suspicious Demise

The sign on the wrought iron fence read: Tombstones for sale. All items must go. You buy it, you keep it. Don’t bring it back.

“Howdy, friend,” the old man said. He looked to me to be made up of two-thirds corn whiskey and one-third chewing tobacco. “Come on in. You've three to choose from.”

I stepped through the open gate and offered my hand.

”Isn’t this the Old Smithtown cemetery?” I said.

“Used to be,” he said. “Mine now. County sold it to me after they had no use for it no more. Ain’t nobody in here now but Jed Nathan’s kin, and ain’t one a them worth a damn to me, anyhow.”

The old man scratched his head and spat tobacco juice at a tombstone.

“Nasty habit, I know.”

“Unusual to be hanging headstones from a tree,” I said. “What happened all to the folks that were buried here?”

“All but the Nathan clan have been dug up and put in a proper cemetery. This one’s haunted, they say.”

“Aren’t all cemeteries haunted?” I said.

“I’ve heard that told a time or two, yes,” said the old man. “But not like this one. You see, after Ned’s wife May, and their two boys, came to a suspicious demise, the graveyard seemed to come to life with nothing but hooligan mischief. A family could come by here on any given Sunday to visit relations, only to find the gravestones of the Nathan clan swinging from tree limbs like convicted felons. Morbid wind chimes, you might say. Spooked the hell out of visitors. They say it was the work of spirits, but I say it was the work of Jed Nathan. You see, he never did want any of his kin buried in the county cemetery. It was his wish to have ‘em buried and miserable alongside his own sorry bones on the family farm. But his kids never wanted anything to do with the wretched scoundrel. Soon as they were old enough to leave - they left. Leaving their poor ma to deal with all that misery. Rumor has it that, one day, May Nathan took the back end of a shovel to his head as he stood fetching water from the well. Only she weren’t too keen of eye, and so missed him by a month a bible school meetings, and it was poor ol’ May ended up at the bottom of that well.

“Course Nathan said he knew nothing about it. ‘Matter of fact,’ he told the police, ‘Me and May was so distant I hardly knew the ‘ol' leg-locked biddy was around.’ You ask me she shoulda leg-locked him around the neck years ago, and have done with him. When the two boys come back for the funeral they were soon-after found legs-in-the-air dead in the same well. Now I sit and wait.”

“For what?” I said.

“For Nathan to come by so I can bury him proper.”

“You mean he’s dead?”

“No, but he will be,” said the old man. “Soon as he sets foot on my land. Won’t bother with no headstone, neither. But these dangling headstones have got to go. I need to raise some funds to build me a cabin. You buyin’?”

It was hard to say no to to man with a shotgun, so I bought three. Besides, Halloween is just around the corner.

Photo courtesy of Pixabay: https://pixabay.com/photos/old-well-wood-rusty-antique-1608403/