We went by an old gravestone, from the mid-1800s, and it was labelled: “She is not dead, but sleepeth”. There was no husband, but two children, one only a year and eight months old, one ten, drowned.

Sounded to me like Bram Stoker material. Would that I could be buried with something cool like that.

“Garlic and holy water daily.”

“At midnight, gaze upon me.”

“Here lies an empty coffin, whose victim could not be held by mortal bonds.”

My brother suggested a bell with a timer, that went off randomly. I thought a tape recording that said “come closer” might be more appropriate.

You know, for fun. Like the guy who had inscribed on his tombstone: Call before you dig.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 130 words, novel: Father Lightning