The Grave

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Harry was a middle aged sort of man but walked older. A long series of whiskies in the Station Hotel, at the edge of town, had ensured that a steady gaze and straight lines were out of the question. He’d had a day at the races with Tom but his mate had long since gone home.

 

‘I’m out of here,’ Tom had said to him. ‘I promised Jane.’

 

The trouble with Tom, apart from making promises he shouldn’t, was that he could never hold his beer. Got incapable after a few glasses and had to stop before he forgot to. Much to Jane’s displeasure, their trips to the race track followed by a dash to the pub were becoming a habit. For Harry this was an advantage. Though he was having difficulty placing one foot in front of the other, doing it every week meant there was no need to think too hard about how to get home.

 

So it wouldn’t have been very clear to passers-by whether his swooping swing into the open gate of the graveyard was intentional or just a failed attempt to lean against a missing wall. Not that there was much interest. It was late evening and one more drunk was now out of sight and off the pavement.

 

That swing through the gate would have been on Harry’s list of things to do but not quite so fast. His world had turned pitch black. He was now lying face down in a pool of mud and he had no idea how that could have happened. He raised his head and could dimly make out a lamp, a row of trees and a narrow path leading passed a line of headstones. Yes, he recognised those. He’d found the graveyard but he was not sure the world was supposed to be at this particular angle. 

 

He slowly raised his muddied body until his knees and then his feet were tucked under his chin. With the aid of a shove from his hands he straightened his legs and moved forward at an angle and at a speed far in excess of that controllable by his brain. Stumbling along for a few feet he veered to the left as the path turned to the right, crashed through some bushes, tripped over a rope and hurtled head first into an open grave.

 

That did the trick. His mind was more alert now than for some hours. His feet were higher than his head so he slowly turned on to his back, removed his feet from the wall and stared at the blackening sky. In the deep gloom of the hole, its edge seemed not much nearer than the stars that were now bursting into view. The grave appeared vast, the other end was invisible, but Harry hadn’t got the time or the courage for exploration. The recent rain had turned the bottom of the grave into fudge and the mud sodden sides made it impossible to get a foothold. But he was determined, in spite of the alcohol and exhaustion, to make some sort of attempt.  He slid, scrambled, took running jumps, fell back and tried again until finally, layered like a chocolate cake, he sat back against the wall and blasphemed.

 

'That’s not going to help you here'. A small voice whispered back. It gave a throaty chuckle. 'No use trying to climb the walls. I’ve tried that. We're here for ever. You'll never get out.’

 

But by God he did. With one bound and an accompanying scream, Harry shot into the sky, his legs spinning like a dynamo ready for the moment he touched earth. But the ground was unforgiving. It was still soaked and laden with shrubs. Harry got just a few yards before he was brought down again. And then he heard the voice once more.

 

‘Hey, don’t leave me. ‘Can’t you give us a hand up? I’ve been here hours.’

‘Tom!’ Harry’s clearing brain had now recognised the voice of his next door neighbour. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Waiting for a bus. What the hell do you think?’

‘You bastard. You gave me the fright of my life. I could have had a heart attack.’

‘Funny though, eh?’ said Tom.

 

Harry looked around at something to throw at him but thought better of it.

 

‘You should have been home hours ago.’

‘Don’t I know it. I was more incapable than I thought. Jane’s going to kill me.’

‘You might as well stay down there,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll get Jane to come here. It’ll save on funeral expenses.’

 

He turned and walked away.

 

‘Harry. Harry. Don’t leave me here.’

 

But revenge was going to be good. Harry continued on and disappeared into the night.