It's Been So Long By The Living Tombstone Novels & Stories

Clay figurines like the ones they'd seen all over Old Town adorned the many shelves. Through one of the arches, Sarah could see the other dining room and realized the music she heard when they walked in was actually a live trio of musicians singing. She stretched her neck to get a better look. There was a short man with an accordion, a taller one playing the cello, and the pudgiest of the three was the singer playing a guitar. They all wore cowboy hats and had thick mustaches. No wonder Angel hadn't wanted to go to Old Town. Why would he? He had it all here.

He had offended a whole lot of people and a group was chattering unend on how bad he had behaved when alive. Not the best way but there was nothing that could be done. Richard moved swiftly toward the tombstone and my heart leaped. He wasn't supposed to move that fast because of his knees. “ Thompson '' he called coldly at the plastered tomb. It might have well been called one of the most expensive tombs because it had gold plastered in some places and diamonds glittered underneath some parts.

"Who would ask a question like that? Shouldn't he be asking for confirmation?" Blake looked calm. After a moment of silence, he said, "Madam, I can't find a person without a name or record, but what puzzles me is the time of death on the tombstone. Seven years ago... what I know is that someone I know passed away around this time." The Old Madam's hand paused, but she didn't raise her head or speak. She just stroked a jade bracelet on her wrist slowly. Blake glanced at her and continued, "The birthmark on the tombstone is the same as the one I know. Born and death in the same date. This kind of coincidence makes me curious about the person in the cemetery."

Vincent’s ears twitched as he strained for any hint of a whisper or a scream—anything at all. "Camela!" His roar erupted from deep within him, echoing strangely without any actual sound. His lips moved, his throat burned with effort, but the grave swallowed every trace of sound. He pressed his claws against his ears in frustration and snarled, “What kind of trick is this?” The tombstone glowed brighter, and the name Vincent Fox throbbed like a heartbeat. Slowly, faint letters began to carve themselves beneath it: “Buried but not broken. Dead but not gone.”

Deep in the cemetery, there was a conspicuous tombstone. Lined with lush pine trees on both sides, it was vibrant and full of life. Ronan leaned slightly and placed the bouquet of white roses in front of the tombstone. The tombstone bore the inscription "Grave of beloved wife Lyra," and there was a profound sadness in his eyes that couldn't be dispelled. He gently caressed the tombstone, his lips twitching slightly, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately unable to speak. Ronan took out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the tombstone clean.

Noah didn’t know how long he stood there looking at the grave. He didn’t speak, and neither did Sterling. It was obvious Sterling had hired a professional. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the stone, not a blade of grass out of place. It looked just like it did when she was buried here, like time had frozen in a single moment of grace. Cared for better than any other headstone in the cemetery. It was eerie. Beautiful. A lie.

The smack. The room is full of male voices. I don't hear her, but I know she's there, probably on the sofa behind the door where I can't see her. The TV is new – or at least, second-hand – and there's a music video playing on screen. I stop. My feet are fixed to the floor. I can't move, because I know that song. The Stone Roses, I Am The Resurrection. That song has haunted me my whole life and as soon as I hear it now, I know what this is. I know what day. What time.

Hugo couldn't suppress a laugh and responded, "Well, you better speed up then. It'll take the staff at least ten minutes to reach here." The tombstone's surface gradually revealed itself as they carefully peeled away the waterproof film. The section that was meant to display a picture appeared entirely blank. When they began to believe it might be a completely unmarked tombstone, black letters emerged as they continued to peel more of the surface. While it was just a single letter, it confirmed that this was no ordinary blank tombstone. Calista's hands suddenly stopped in sheer disbelief when most of the letters were exposed. The letter spelled out "Everhart".

Something about it drew me closer. Lily's Moonstone Tombstone was beautifully crafted, the polished granite embedded with small moonstone crystals that seemed to absorb and reflect the light. But it was the photograph that captured my attention—a young girl, perhaps four or five years old, with emerald green eyes so familiar they made my heart ache. "Lily Winters," I read aloud, my fingers tracing the engraved name. "Beloved daughter. Forever in our hearts." The dates indicated she had lived just five short years. Such a tragedy for one so young.

He wanted to drive to the cemetery right now and dig until he knew for certain. Instead he stood there gripping the counter, breathing. His wife slept peacefully in the next room. The woman who had given him the first real peace he'd ever known. The same woman who might have emptied his brother's grave. Jose looked at his own reflection and felt something ugly shift in his chest. Part of him didn't care. Part of him just wanted to keep the life he'd built no matter what crawled out from under it. He deleted the messages. Then emptied the trash folder too.