The Headstone

I haven’t written in a long time, so to gain inspiration, I looked up some writing prompts to get back in the game. This is the result of one of those prompts.

Disclaimer: This is my first piece in a while, so it’s not going to be that good. So if anyone has any constructive criticism, be sure to let me know.

Prompt: A girl is in a cemetery. She sees a grave. The headstone has the name and information of someone she knows that is still alive. But the death date is in # of days.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Usually, I just place a rose at her grave and then move on. I meet her here once a year, give her a flower, and then go home. But today, I can’t seem to move away from her headstone. The name has changed.

What used to be my mother’s headstone has morphed into the name of a man. A man I never wanted to speak to again. The date had been switched from December 19, 2014 to July 26, 2021. That’s-

“Two days from now.”

This could easily be a sick joke, another twist in the knot that grew in my stomach every time I visited. I hated the cemetery; it was cold and dank and dark and the air smelled like rotting flowers and ashes. A chill set in my bones the moment I first arrived, and it has never receded. But it could be real. The nagging voice in the back of my head started to spout off reasons, but I shut it up as soon as it spoke. I mechanically snapped a picture of the stone, pocketing my phone and taking…