The Thinking Box - 4 - A Noise in the Graveyard

A Noise in the Graveyard

Klaus collapsed to the ground, pressing his face to the still relatively fresh dirt of his wife’s grave. He was as close to her as he could be, like this. Tears streamed across the the bridge of his nose and onto the tiny blades of green grass, already sprouting, as he let his grief kill his anger and fear.

Tiny blades of green grass. In the darkness he could barely make them out but they were there.

Klaus had watched his wife’s coffin be lowered into the ground and covered in dirt. He had seen the funeral director seal the coffin shut with Klara’s body inside. The dirt above her grave was still relatively fresh, yes, but it already had grass growing in it. It was impossible that this grave had been dug up again since the funeral. The verdant green of the new growth testified to that. This ground was undisturbed.

Klaus felt relief was over him. Following closely behind was renewed anger. How could someone torture a widower like that? Worse, how could the respectable Klaus Drecker be so foolish as to believe so ridiculous a claim. Murder and grave-robbing. Nonsense.

There was a noise then, in the nearly pitch dark of the graveyard, so faint that Klaus wouldn’t have heard it if his ear had not been pressed against the earth. It was a scraping noise, perhaps of a shovel cutting through stony dirt. It seemed to come from farther down the row of graves. Klaus rose and walked along the row, treading softly. He came to another fresh grave, this one with no grass yet growing, and the funeral flowers still barely wilted at all. The sound was loudest here. Yes, certainly a digging sound, but no-one was digging here, that could be plainly seen, even in the dark.

But perhaps … The sound was muffled. It was coming from underground!

Klaus silently dropped prone once more, pressing his ear to the dirt. He could hear the shovel scraping against wood. He listened for a few moments, until he heard a loud thump, then a dragging sound.

Someone was robbing the graves from underneath!

Oh, horror! My Klara! What if it’s true?

Klaus ran through the streets once more, aiming for the constabulary. What was he thinking? Who would believe a half-crazed grief-stricken man who had not left his house since his wife’s funeral, especially when he looked as if he’d been crawling around a cemetery. He must go home and collect himself.

Klaus opened the door to his workshop.

Whoosh-Whump.

Klaus opened the canister.

NOW YOU SEE

NOW YOU KNOW

COME TO THE CASTLE KLAUS

A chill ran up Klaus’ spine.

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