The Seer by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 11

The weekend had finally arrived, and Gordon was relieved to have time to recover from the stress of the week's workload. Ordinarily, he was not one to drink, but Friday night found him in a quiet bar, nursing a beer. The last time he had drank was at a party, after graduating from medical school. Since then, he only drank socially, and in small amounts. This time, he felt the need to steady his nerves and put some thought into what he had experienced. He was, however, mindful of the effects alcohol could have on one's judgment, and having consumed two beers, left the bar, leaving the waitress a generous tip.

Not wanting to be on the roads so soon after drinking, Gordon decided to kill some time by going for a walk. He crossed Forest Avenue and turned left down Steven's. Passing the college, he reached the he reached the stone wall bordering the front of Evergreen cemetery. It was early evening, and in spite of the hours posted on the sign at its entrance, Gordon decided to go in anyway. If he could find a quiet place near the back, he might avoid being seen by the police, as they made their nightly rounds. Choosing a place near the pond, Gordon sat with his back against a pine tree, across the dirt road from a small field of older graves. After that, he would leave the cemetery, walk back down to the bar where his car was parked, and go home. For now, his mind was preoccupied by the experience he found to be just as real as anything else. However, his thoughts were broken by the voice of a small boy, who appeared to be looking for something. “Hey, mister!” he yelled. “Have you seen my dog?”

“Um, no,” Gordon replied. “I haven't seen a dog. You know, it's awfully late. Shouldn't you be home?” Gordon didn't suspect the boy was lost, but wondered why he would be in the cemetery alone, at such a late hour. He appeared to be no more than eight or nine years old and, concerned for the boy's safety, inquired as to the whereabouts of his parents. The boy’s face was consumed with anxiety, hoping Gordon could help him.

His question was met by the sound of a barking dog, and a yellow Labrador ran up and dropped a ball at the boy's feet. The dog barked again and took a few steps back, waiting anxiously for it to be thrown. The boy, and picking up the ball, threw it across the dirt road, where it landed amongst the broad cluster of gravestones. The boy giggled and ran off toward his dog, but just before leaving Gordon's sight he faded mid-step and then vanished.

His logical mind suddenly gave way, as Gordon was overtaken by fear. Getting to his feet, he took a few panicked steps back, while searching through the grave stones. But, just as he was catching his breath, Gordon was startled by a nudge at his leg. Looking down, he found the dog sitting next to him, having dropped the ball at his feet. The dog looked up at him with begging eyes and a slight whine in its voice. He pointed off to the gravestones while addressing the dog, as if it could answer.

“Where did he go?”

His analytical mind had not yet failed completely, and was able to catch himself conversing with a dog that, even if it knew where the boy was, wouldn't be telling him any time soon. Recovering his thoughts, Gordon knelt down and picked up the ball. Given what he just witnessed, he was touched by some small part of his mind that wasn't certain if the dog was even real. But as he knelt down, the dog, again, expressed its need to play by bringing a paw up to Gordon's knee. He was greatly relieved as he worked his fingers through the dog's fur, prompting it to nudge his hand with its nose.

“I suppose you want this, huh?” he asked. Holding the ball out, Gordon threw it far across the road and deep into the field of graves. On a reflex, the dog launched into the moonlit burial ground. Gordon waited for it to come bounding back, but given the events of the last few minutes, he was not surprised when the dog didn't return. It seemed to have simply faded into the night, without making a sound.

Gordon cautiously stood while, again, scanning the rough marble and granite monuments. He strained to hear even the faintest sound, but all that spoke to him was the quiet murmurs of frogs come out to feed from the stillness of the pond. Now, the night time stillness had begun to tease at his nerves, and Gordon quickly walked from the pond, toward the front of the cemetery. However, as the lights of Stevens Avenue came into view, Gordon felt an odd sensation at his back, and behind him, saw nothing, only the darkness of the cemetery, punctuated by the granite chapel that stood majestically in its foreground.

The strange feeling at his back continued, becoming stronger and persistent enough to send Gordon running toward the street. As he crossed the gated border of the cemetery, he felt the unexplainable sensation suddenly release its grip. Once again, he studied the moonlit landscape of Evergreen Cemetery. He found that he was not so much afraid of what he might see, but of what he couldn't see, and feeling the blood begin to leave his head, he bent down, grabbed his knees, and tried, with great difficulty, to collect himself. There had to be an explanation, and Gordon certainly did not believe in such things as ghosts.