Story Wordcount: 966 words. [s]Haha, I'm one of the first people to actually properly follow the prompt. My victory is assured.[/s] I kid. Didn't do it to compete. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to kill some time and get my writing brain flowing. Hopefully whoever reads, enjoys it. [i]PM me if you happened to have anything particular to say about it, whether positive or critique. Unlike most, I won't bite your head off.[/i] [hider=My Own Prompt Synopsis.] Ellis Wright is a passionate graveyard keeper, whose a staunch believer there's no afterlife, once a poor miscreant that was caught desecrating this graveyard. He was given the job by an older man, who was a priest who had nobody and forgot his own name, that recently passed away and was buried in the very same graveyard. He learned there was a reason to respect the dead, leaving them to rest and realizing he wanted something important written on his gravestone. In the end, he stops another rowdy teen repeating his mistake, offering him a job. [/hider] [h3][u]Etching Ellis's Stone[/u][/h3] Life was like flowers laid beside a gravestone. The surface level smile you put on daily, embellishing bleakness that eventually withers without support and dies. Amidst a sunrise shining like a heavenly glow, through the yew trees where a young man kneeled in dirt for the hundredth time, but never to pray. Picking up another assortment of no longer pink carnations, meticulously dusting off the stone slab with a whisk broom, revealing the etchings, “Rachel Wright. Precious Daughter, 1962-1966” in-between both her parent’s graves ending the following year. “I suppose Wright’s were always accustomed to the wrong side of fortune...” The young man lamented. Standing up, rubbing the dirt off on his shabby slacks. Stepping in a slow careful circular motion, scanning the surrounding amassed gravestones, eyes glued to the recently trimmed grass and his dyed green work boots. His exhaled breath, like smoke from yesterday’s final cigarette. Pulling some nicotine gum from his upper-left shirt pocket and popping it into his mouth. A sour cinnamon flavor assaulted his tongue, face twisting into a grimace and letting out a quick gagging sound, restraining himself from spitting it out. “I’m just getting a peppermint flavor next time...” He muttered aloud, fully zipping up his windbreaker, walking off to reexamine hours of his continuous work. Noticing one of the Sunday regular’s, a widow that’s lived decades longer, wearing a Renaissance widow dress, approaching a weeping angel statue, collapsing to the ground and letting out anguished cries, beneath a rainbow off in the distance towards the city. He smiled seeing their similarities, her tears like a ceaseless rain, reminiscing their moments together. Until leaving beautiful colors behind, showing those who believe watch over them, that they mattered. Continuing his casual walk, until reaching a tall catholic cross gravestone all by its lonesome. Completely dateless and nameless, with only etchings carved by himself. “Someone Remembered.” “Her husband was a lucky man, but so am I. I might have ignored my parents until it was too late, but Father, you truly raised me out of my delinquency...I may never have the same strong belief in god, but you helped me reclaim faith in people. Ones we lost-shouldn’t be forgotten. I suppose-in that sense, there is a life after death...” He choked on his last words, clenching his fists tight, letting his own drops of memories fall from his eyes. “Despite forgetting your name before we met, having no family or friends, you still have someone to remember you. And I’ll keep my promise to respect and maintain, the place where all the lonely rest. Because nobody wants to be completely forgotten.” His last few sentences quoting the surrogate father buried beneath. Feeling a swift breeze coming from the southeast, reaching down and picking up a stray golden leaf tumbling by his feet, turning it around by its stem. Hearing distinct buzzing, glancing in the direction of a bumblebee landing on the leaf he held, leaving as quickly as the following breeze carried the leaf away once he released it from his grasp... [center] * * * [/center] Underneath the pale moonlight partially shrouded by clouds, the stink coming from his muffler was nearly suffocating, pulling into the driveway and checked the displaying time on the radio, softly playing some classic rock. Turning off and exiting his car with a quick clunk, he returned to his job fifteen minutes early, before his midnight shift. He patted the car’s hood, pulling out a large flashlight. “You belong here just as much as I do.” He sarcastically thought, switching on the light to illuminate the ground below. Smelling the scent of wet grass, only hearing the sounds of his footsteps hitting gravel approaching the graveyard. He stopped and pulled out an unopened pack of cigarettes, hanging his head low, staring at them within his trembling fingers. “I wonder what will be etched in my stone? Ellis Wright-was he important enough for anyone to remember?” Sighing at his rhetorical question. Suddenly, hearing the sounds of a shovel clanging against a gravestone. Ellis’ heartbeat skipped, unconsciously dropping the pack and running off in that direction. Coming across someone wearing a dark grey hoodie, hurling a shovel full of dirt over their shoulder. Ellis rushed up from behind, firmly grabbing their wrist, making them drop the shovel. Turning them around, to see an adolescent's terrified face, frozen stiff, realizing how it nearly reflected how he was caught desecrating the very same graveyard. “I was t-told this man was buried with a bunch of gold...I m-mean-I-I’m r-really sorry sir! I won’t do it again! I swear!” The teen managed to loudly stammer out, not even pulling his arm away, snot started to drip down from his nose. Ellis gave him a stern look. “I expect you to spend as long as it takes, repairing any of the damage you done until it’s fixed. Maybe then we can discuss not calling the police. Understand?” The boy seemed awestruck, like it was the kindest thing he had ever been told. Nodding his head fast enough to give someone whiplash, he was released and spent the next several hours fixing the damage he had done, sweating pouring from his forehead and breathing heavily. Waiting in silence, looking up at Ellis, eventually smiling at the boy. “If you really want some money, how would you like a job under the table? Helping me take care of this graveyard starting tomorrow at 8 a.m sharp.” Ellis said seeing the boy’s agape mouth, raised eyebrows and widened pupils, returning a smile brighter than the stars. “Yes sir!” The boy exclaimed. Ellis watched the boy scurry off, heading back to his car, uncertain what would transpire. Perhaps, this was his chance to do something worthy enough to remember, for someone to etch in Ellis’ gravestone...