A weird fiction tale set in Boston's Granary Burying Ground.
Steffi works on a nighttime graveyard tour in Boston. Recently she’s become obsessed with the statue of an angel at the Granary Burying Ground. The problem: there are no angel statues in that graveyard…and the angel no one else can see appears to be equally obsessed with Steffi.
This story was inspired by a tour I took in Boston a few years ago. It was a great tour, but I scared the other tourists with my macabre knowledge (and gallows humor). The main tour guide was pretty entertained, though.
Read an excerpt below!
Steffi's gaze roamed over the crumbling tombstones while she waited for the last tour group to come through. Her corset dug into her ribs as she stood leaning against the Franklin obelisk, pointedly ignoring the angel. It didn't help much. The angel's blind gaze radiated heat against Steffi's skin, as if it were a stone furnace instead of a statue. Not that it was a statue, but that's what it looked like.
The heat was a welcome contrast to the cool air of the autumn evening. Back home in Georgia it would be warm enough, but Boston was a whole different world. She hadn't expected to love the city like she did, but even at the start of her third year at the university, she hadn't truly gotten used to the weather. Despite herself her eyes slipped closed, and she relaxed against the stone behind her, basking in the heat.
Just for a minute, she told herself.
The angel's radiance was strong and steady, soaking into her like water in a gentle but inevitable infusion. Was it love? She'd always heard loved described as warm, but Steffi had certainly never noticed any sort of thermal effect when she was with Lisa. And I do love Lisa. I do. Don't I?
The yearning was the same, or nearly enough as made no difference. When Steffi had first seen Lisa she had wanted her with the same sort of soul-sick infatuation that came with the angel. But you couldn't want an angel the same way you wanted a lover, could you? And certainly an angel wouldn't feel those baser, human emotions like lust and jealousy.
Love's supposed to be bigger than that.
And yet, the angel drew her. Called her. Wanted her.
Copyright © 2010 Mercy Loomis
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