08-27-2020, 05:25 PM
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— there were two types of people when it came to regularly maintaining the cemetery. some people saw it was their duty to do so and, even if they didn’t want to do it, they did it anyway out of respect. others were more reluctant, each for their own reasons. being in a place, surrounded by so much death could be overwhelming to the faint of heart. mick stood unfazed; he was more used to death than most people would ever truly know. he was quiet, secretive; most parts of mick’s life would go unknown by man. the parts of himself that were empty and hollow where they’d once been full… he’d be quick to keep it secret.
eyes wandered absently along the rows of headstones, the aged stones worn down over time. there was a sense of pride the people of northstar put into maintaining the old graveyard, cleaning it regularly. although age always wore down the site, some parts beyond repair, there was something awe-worthy in the graveyard’s maintenance. he stepped carefully through the rows, hands casually in his pockets. his eyes landed on a familiar gravestone, slowing briefly. mourn not my death, but celebrate my life. he lingered in front of the grave - memories of a past interaction months before - before inevitably moving on.
he chose a different gravestone nearby to start to clean the headstone, picking off lichens and moss from the cracked stone with careful hands.
— there were two types of people when it came to regularly maintaining the cemetery. some people saw it was their duty to do so and, even if they didn’t want to do it, they did it anyway out of respect. others were more reluctant, each for their own reasons. being in a place, surrounded by so much death could be overwhelming to the faint of heart. mick stood unfazed; he was more used to death than most people would ever truly know. he was quiet, secretive; most parts of mick’s life would go unknown by man. the parts of himself that were empty and hollow where they’d once been full… he’d be quick to keep it secret.
eyes wandered absently along the rows of headstones, the aged stones worn down over time. there was a sense of pride the people of northstar put into maintaining the old graveyard, cleaning it regularly. although age always wore down the site, some parts beyond repair, there was something awe-worthy in the graveyard’s maintenance. he stepped carefully through the rows, hands casually in his pockets. his eyes landed on a familiar gravestone, slowing briefly. mourn not my death, but celebrate my life. he lingered in front of the grave - memories of a past interaction months before - before inevitably moving on.
he chose a different gravestone nearby to start to clean the headstone, picking off lichens and moss from the cracked stone with careful hands.