Cameron Boyce Grave Novels & Stories

[ZEKE] Jake Myers — 26 June 1995– 18 April 2024 Here lies a man who called this place home. That’s what the grave reads. Beside me, Camilla goes completely still. My own hands curl into fists. I force myself to look at her, watching as her lips tremble. She’s struggling to react. Vance waits with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixated on the tombstone. He watches it like he sees something deeper—the man himself, probably.

Jules asked as they returned to the cab. “Don’t think so,” Cameron inspected himself. “What happens if I do?” “Burns through cloth, and burns through you,” Jules said grimly. “Have to wash it off quick in the river.” “F-k,” Cameron shook his head incredulously. “Will burn through the gloves too,” Jules told him as he turned the Ute towards the rocky area that the Cartwrights called “the graveyard.” In the pre-dawn, with the headlights and spotlights picking out the twisted wrecks of cars and farm machinery abandoned over the eras of the Cartwrights farming the land and dragging out shadow into mystery, it was an eery place. Cameron was relieved when they managed to get the first corpse into

The only sounds were the rain and the loud roar of the engine. We reached the cemetery. The place looked dark and scary under the heavy rain. Mud was already forming everywhere. We jumped out of the car, grabbed the shovels from the trunk, and ran straight to Cassian’s grave. “Start digging!” Rowe shouted. The rain soaked us completely as we pushed the shovels into the wet ground. Mud stuck to everything. My arms started hurting after a few minutes, but I didn’t stop. We dug and dug and dug, breathing hard as the rain poured down on our faces.

When we pull out of the hug, Cameron looks at Dante. “Where is my sperm donor now?” he growls. “Dead. We haven’t decided what to do with his body yet,” Dante says, looking at me as if he’s not saying everything because I’m standing there. “I don’t care that he’s dead. I’m glad he is,” I say, as Alexandra guides me to a seat beside June. I sit and she sits beside me, both women taking my hands, ready to wait through this horrible time with me. “I’ll go talk to Edward. I have an idea of what we could do with him,” Cameron growls. Then he comes over and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back. If you need me …”

I pushed the door but it wasn't opening. I know that mother isn't the type to leave her privacy for others to prey on. I left the door and walked towards my room, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I dropped my phone on the nightstand drawer and put my backpack on the bed before walking inside the bathroom. Oh, my head hurts. ***** I got out of my car and walked towards the grave. I kneel down before the grave and wipe away the dust on the name. Gray Julius Hampton. 1986_ 2015

As Clemente climbed up the winding path, he could feel the crisp mountain breeze carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, intermingled with the aroma of roses in his hand. Keavy was buried at the center of this graveyard, underneath an ancient tree. When Clemente arrived, there were already two people standing by Keavy’s grave. One was a lady dressed in a black dress, and the other was a boy at around 5 years old. “You are late.” Agnes turned around, with tears still glittering in her eyes. “I was with Aurora and the twins,” Clemente said. He bent down to rub the boy’s hair, “How are you, Bryn?”

We both walked down the street together but he walked faster, dragging me towards the graveyard. Preston Graveyard. EST 1504. "That's pretty old." I said and the boy nodded while taking me into the graveyard. I walked with him and gushed at the prettiness of the place. The white roses stood out the most . At the middle of the graveyard, there was a huge circle with beautiful flowers and butterflies. It looked so alive. I walked towards the grave and smiled at the glass tombstone. Mabel Adriana Carter 234AD -1999 My birth year. My birthday. I frowned and shook my head in pain. Don't think like that.

Knowing the mistakes he had made in the past, he didn’t dare to face me. Only on his birthday did he secretly slip a card into a bouquet of roses. “Mom, today’s my birthday. Can you give me a hug?” I stared at that card for a long time. In the end, I threw it in the trash. Cameron was devastated. With his long-term blood loss, he collapsed and remained unconscious for several days. But without the constant disturbance from Jack and Cameron, I felt much more at ease. Still, there was no miracle and I was still dying.

In the photos, Dad's and my faces were black and blue with bruises, dried blood crusted at the corners of our mouths, and there was no trace of life left in us. He spoke slowly, his voice heavy. "Oscar Howard and Cameron Howard passed away two weeks ago."

The room smelled like him, and when I closed my eyes, I could hear his cries for food and attention. I fell to my knees as I wept, letting out the pain as I recalled our final moments in that cold building. I cried so hard I wasn’t aware when Warren came into the room to take Cam, to prepare him for his funeral. Cam was a very young cub, so we couldn’t keep him for another day. He had to be buried immediately so his soul would return to the goddess in one piece. We buried Cam later that afternoon, beneath the oak tree at the edge of the estate—the very spot I loved taking him for our strolls. I was convinced he loved it also because he would always giggle as the leaves danced in the wind abo