The Stone

I sit with my back pressed against the cold stone, my bare feet digging into the damp grass below. I slide my palms over my knees and notice that my fingers are trembling. How long have I been here? How did I come to be in this place? I look around for anything familiar, but see nothing that I recognize. I lift my eyes toward the sky, the clouds are breaking and I can see the sun. The sounds around me are muffled, I can faintly hear birds in the distance. My throat begins to tighten with fear, I don’t think that I am suppose to be here.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the stone, trying to recall how I got here. Nothing. I look down at my lap and see that my hands are no longer trembling, they’re tightly gripping the dress that I am wearing. I do not recognize this dress. I lift the fabric and run my fingers along the soft cotton. I take a deep breath and again try to recall anything I can about what brought me here. I can feel the tears escaping my eyes, I try quickly to blink them away but they fall silently onto the pale yellow dress that I am wearing.

As the sky begins to darken, I lift myself from the ground and brush the dirt from my dress. I glance one final time at the polished stone behind me before I go. My name glares back at me. The name I had written all of my life suddenly looks unfamilar etched into the gray granite headstone.