I couldn't seem to work on my current WIP so I kept looking around on my hard drive until I found something totally different to work on. Ghosts are different from time travelers, aren't they? I did a little editing, and added about 200 words, but it still needs work, and direction.
The three figures stood near the rear gates of the cemetery, watching in silence as four men dug up one of the graves. The police car across the street had a uniformed officer watching from a distance. Grace hadn’t been here long and had yet to make any friends, but now with the disturbance of her final resting place she would have to start over again when she was re-interred or moved to a different cemetery.
Miranda glanced over she shoulder at the other two. Phillip was holding the young child’s hand as he leaned against him for support. Young Robbie had only been here for six months. A piano prodigy, he’d been hit by a vehicle while crossing the street. He was having trouble adapting because of his young age and the fact he knew no one buried here. Everyone he knew in his young life was still alive.
Phillip had been here the longest, since 1829. Before his death, he had been a butler in London and proud of his position. His sister had married an American and moved to Virginia. When he died, she’d had him brought over and buried near where she and her family were living. Miranda herself had arrived in 1933. She, too, had been murdered while on a cross country to promote her latest movie. Since she had no living relatives, the movie company executives had left her here. She had taken several months herself coming to terms with where she was and what she was. By then she had met Phillip and she thought he was the one who would pull the child through.
“Why do you think they’re digging her up?”
“I believe because of the reason behind her death. She said she had been murdered. Maybe the local authorities have new evidence to check her body for.” Phillip had been the first one to make contact with Grace and she hadn’t attempted to speak to any one else the short time she was here.
“Did she say who had killed her? Or why?” She would never admit to Phillip but she, too, liked watching the crime shows he did.
“No, she didn’t. I think she would have, in time. Maybe the police already know and they are gathering more evidence from her body.”
“I wish her well. No one wants to stay here longer than necessary. We’re stuck here since we died so long ago, but the others have a chance to go on. We need to find a way to help them.”
“Have you thought about contacting the caretaker again? She didn’t seem frightened the last time you tried. She kept asking who you were and where you were. I think you should try again. She can help us to help those who did not die a natural or accidental death.”
“I will when she visits again. She has helpers who aid her. She just happened to be working on a map of the graves when I saw her. She hasn’t been back since.”
“I’ll have others start watching for her. Surely one of us can communicate with her, since she seems so receptive.” The three of them turned away and headed back toward the mansion in the middle of the cemetery.
The caretaker lived inside on the upper floors while the main floor held the cemetery office and records of the individuals interred in the surrounding estate fields. Elizabeth Park Cemetery had been named for the daughter of the original owner. When she had died, her father didn’t want her buried across town. So he had her buried in a field out back, fenced in to keep people and animals out.