{"id":2851,"date":"2015-10-19T02:37:13","date_gmt":"2015-10-19T02:37:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/?p=2851"},"modified":"2015-10-19T02:39:08","modified_gmt":"2015-10-19T02:39:08","slug":"a-grave-concern-by-greg-beatty","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/a-grave-concern-by-greg-beatty\/","title":{"rendered":"A Grave Concern by Greg Beatty"},"content":{"rendered":"


\n<\/a>\"moon\"<\/a><\/h1>\n

A Grave Concern<\/h1>\n

by\u00a0Greg Beatty<\/p>\n

Steve walked slowly along the gravel paths that wound through the cemetery. Megan walked beside him. She kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything from the acorns that rained down to make the squirrels ecstatic to what it meant that one tombstone was covered with moss while the one next it was pristine. Steve didn\u2019t answer her once.<\/p>\n

Megan jerked to a halt. \u201cSteve!\u201d she stage whispered. \u201cDo you see that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Steve peered at the stone she was pointing at. A man and a boy were in front of it. The man crouched, putting his head at the same height as the boy\u2019s, making it easy for him to rest his arm on the boy\u2019s shoulders. The other hand traced and retraced the oversized capital M of the deceased\u2019s name. They were too far away to hear what they said, but the boy was nodding very seriously for so small a child.<\/p>\n

After a few finger M\u2019s, the boy pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. He scrawled a lopsided M directly below where the man\u2019s finger had demonstrated the letter, then turned his adoring face to what was obviously his father. The man smiled with pride and nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you see that?\u201d Megan asked again. \u201cI\u2019ve never seen anyone teaching a kid to write in a cemetery. That\u2019s downright creepy, though I have to admit the two of them are cute as heck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Steve didn\u2019t answer, but just strode forward, walking much more purposefully than he had before, almost stomping forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cSteve\u2014you don\u2019t have to\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Megan trailed off as Steve walked to and through the father and son, dissipating them like a minor dust storm.<\/p>\n

Steve traced both M\u2019s with his finger, then let it follow the other four letters of the first name. He spoke for the first time. \u201cI wonder who did that. Still, she wouldn\u2019t mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

He fell silent again, bowing his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Megan turned. The father and son were back, if translucent now. \u201cAbout what?\u201d she asked cautiously.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you mind?\u201d the pale father asked.<\/p>\n

Steve turned and walked back the way he had entered, his pace once again slow, almost a trudge. He walked to, and through, Megan without acknowledging her presence.<\/p>\n

Megan looked at the stone, where her name communicated what she should have already known.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she said. \u201cOh. No, go ahead. What can it hurt? Now.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Steve walked slowly along the gravel paths that wound through the cemetery. Megan walked beside him. She kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2210,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[88],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2851","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-horror"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2851","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2851"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2851\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2853,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2851\/revisions\/2853"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2210"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2851"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2851"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2851"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}