South Brisbane Cemetery: Lot 11B
You find Albert Ernest Humphrey’s tombstone loitering under a tree hidden and forgotten behind the Greek monument. The ghost of a man sits on the branch of the tree dangling his feet.
You pant. “Albert?”
The ghost looks over his shoulder at you. His thick moustache curls at the edges and compliments his bushy eyebrows. He looks past you and sees the pursuing danger. He springs off the branch and dashes at you. He collides with you and infuses his energetic signature into your body. It feels cold. You vibrate uncontrollably losing control of your actions.
“It’s ok, let go.” You hear the whisper inside your head.
You feel the ghost take the reins and dive your body into the grave falling beneath and through the soil atop a coffin. It’s pitch black. You lay there feeling helpless but safe. Footsteps tread across the ground six feet above you.
It goes quiet. The coast is clear. You feel your body pulled up through the earth and to your feet on the surface. His spirit jerks from your body and stumbles you back. You hunch over huffing and puffing. It still tingles and your mouth tastes like dirt.
“I’m Albert. Nice to meet you. And you’re welcome.” He smiles, his wrinkles folding into charming patterns.
“Thank you,” you say, still in awe as you brush the filth off your clothing and shake the dust from your hair.
He leans against the headstone and pats it, inviting you to sit then folds his arms. You perch beside him.
“I see you’ve met my tree friend, Blog. Good bloke,” he says.
“This is surreal.”
He chuckles. “Yes, neat isn’t it. But you don’t ever want to become this.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not free spirits, mate. We’re stuck between this world and whatever is next, the bright light, a new life. Just lost souls tethered to our earthly pasts and emotions.”
“If you know that, why are you still here? Why don’t you move on?”
“Every day, I sit on that tree and wait for the sun to set because in that brief moment, I relive my one purpose: my Cynthia. I will relive that feeling for eternity if it means I can experience being with her again. I’m not ready to let that go. That’s why it’s a noble thing you’re doing. Helping Blog to reawaken his true love. When you die, you want to be free. So while you’re here, live and love now. And when it is time to check out, leave your luggage behind.”
You sit in the peaceful silence of the cemetery watching other souls roam about.
“It’s been quiet for a while now; it should be safe. Wait for Blog at the park bench by the river that looks at the bridge.”
“Thank you,” you say sincerely.
Go to the Riverside Park Bench resting on the mound across the TJ Memorial Park Drive that views the bridge over the river.