A Grave Affair

Are you sure about this?

I asked the Good Lady as I peered up at the purple-black clouds above our house from the front doorstep.

Yes, Daddy-Bear. We always go for a walk on a Sunday. Are you hungover again? Is that why you don't want to go?

The Good Lady frowned and attempted to peek at my eyes which were sheltering under my beaten down brows.

I turned away. Hungover? Cheeky boot. I mean I was but that didn't mean she could go around making assumptions. What if I hadn't been hungover? Ha, that would have been a smear on my good name.

I made a low growling noise in my throat, like an impotent beaver being asked if it has any wood.

It looks as if it's going to piss down with rain.

Try as I might, I couldn't help but sound like an old shoe being filled with pickled onions.

The Good Lady laughed and pinched my cheek, joggling it and my jowels back and forth.

Oh Daddy-Waaddy-woo, you're not made of sugar you know. You won't melt!

Chortling, she turned and started sorting out the millions of things that we would need for a journey that involved two children and outside.

In no time at all, we were laden down with bags, snacks and water the likes of which would have shamed an 18th-century explorer into feeling they were underprepared.

As we left the house, it started to rain.

Soon we were in one of the local wild places.

Gradually with all the fresh air my head stopped pounding and settled into a dull ache. This wasn't so bad I suppose.

Daddy, look! What's through here?

The Little Lady was pointing at a gap in the trees in which three gravestones stood guard.

My balls gave a little twinge with fear.

I didn't like the look of this. Not one tiny bit.

Yeah, come away, lass. We don't want to go traipsing in someone's graveyard. What if there were native Americans buried there or something?

It was a slim possibility, this being the grim and wet middle bit of Scotland but well, I had seen too many scary movies to not at least consider it.

Oh, Daddy-Bear. You're not scared of a little gravey-wavey-yard are you?

The Good Lady pinched my cheek in what was becoming quite an irritating way.

Yeah, Daddy. Come on!

The Booms all ran through the gap and into almost certain death.

Sighing, I followed. As I walked past the Gravestones I heard a low echoing clang as if a giant stone door had just crashed shut.

Spooked somewhat, I hurried after the family. The rain started coming down in sheets.

I passed all manner of twisted and lichen crusted headstones.

They seemed to leer out at me as I scurried past trying to catch up with my family who were now nowhere to be seen.

A needle loomed ahead, piercing the sullen sky.

As I hurried, crow-like things screeched from the sides of my vision.

There! There was the Little Boom, he was standing in front of an ancient and terrifying stone deity.

Little guy, over here!

I cried out.

He turned toward me but as he did a darkness enveloped us. Suddenly he was gone and I found myself alone under an alien sky in the blackness of a graveyard for things that were not human but hungered for what we had.

Claws that stank of death clutched at me and I dropped to my knees screaming.

---

And that is probably why we shouldn't go out?

I said hopefully to the Good Lady as we stood on the front doorstep, my cheek still aching from where she had pinched it.

Oh, Daddy-bear. What an imagination. You're still a dick when you're hungover though.

Chortling, she turned and started sorting out the millions of things that we would need for a journey that involved two children and outside.

As we left the house, it started to rain.