The pointy, cast iron fence is anything but welcoming as I step onto the uneven cobblestone in front of the compact graveyard.
Stone Angels adorn the concrete archway, their worn appearance only serves to unsettle me.
Puddles of muddy water slosh around on the ground, making the ground in front of me glisten dully as I uneasily make my way inside.


The thick, gray clouds create a loom overhead the plot of land, setting an appropriate tone for such a location.
The Sun’s bright rays barely make it past the crack in the blankets of dirtied cotton in the air.
Head lights from passing cars shine against the few intact headstones, creating an almost angelic glow.


As I enter the area, the silence of the graveyard slices through me like a sharpened knife, causing me to fall in suit and hush any noise I myself might utter.
The ‘clippity clop’ of guide horses, laughter of tourists in buggies, and the screeches of crows echo faintly in the background.
An ominous wind softly blows at the brown, shriveled tufts of grass, creating a low ‘swish’ sound to accompany the other minute sounds like a harmony accompanies a melody.


How did they die? Or, more importantly, why?


An overwhelming feeling of sorrow and compassion suddenly washes over me like a tsunami, drowning me in intense emotions.


Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe.