Cemetery Keeper and Ouroboros.

By: Melissa.

It was a lazy summer evening when the fireflies flickered into view. The grass looked brown in the hues of the navy and deep purple twilight. In awe of the sunset, amidst the brown grass stood a figure no taller than six feet, a wooden painted mask covering its face. Pitch black skin painted with each part of the skeleton that pertained to that part of the body, brilliant sea foam green hair that spiked back from the crown of his head; the rest in a bushy spiked ponytail that reached the back of his knees.  An oriental looking outfit, the color of faded roses hung loosely around his frame. No one was there with him, so they wouldn’t be confused by his gender, having the waist and shoulders that would denote female, but no chest to speak of. His long fingers were clasped around a chain that would look to heavy for him to hold, attached to the chain was a large puppet that resembled an ancient dragon. He always had a passion for ventriloquism, but he could never get the hang of it.

He dropped the chain from his palm and carefully set down the puppet. Watching its lifeless eyes lull in the sockets he felt a pang in his chest. He kneeled down and turned the dragon puppet to face him, seeing the reflection of the dragon in the face of the mask, as well as the reflection in the dragon’s eyes. He reached his hand up, those seemingly frail fingers wrapping around the orb of green and plucking it from the socket. He plucked the other and held them in each palm. He lifted his arms over his head, turning his wrists, pretending to be a snail; using the dragon’s eyes as his own. He stopped when he caught sight of a figure in the corner of his eye. He thought he was alone in this over grown field. No one had been around here for years, except for the cemetery keeper family. Ouroboros was the name of this demon who wished for friends, and the ability to bring magical items to life. His creation was an example that the Ouroboros, a snake which ate its tail as a symbol of a never ending cycle, was meant to lead a lonely life.

He was banned from the home in which the Cemetery Keeper’s family stayed. Their children were allowed to visit him, but could not stay past sunset, for fear of Ouroboros resorting to a violent nature that was kept under control due to a strict diet of goats and owls. His curiosity was sparked so much that he was brought to his feet; he carefully stalked through the tall grass to try to reach the spot where he saw the figure, his eyes wide and breath shaky from anticipation. He would eat whoever this trespasser was.

“Keep your distance, freak!” A squeak of a voice met the demon’s pointed ears, the words stung but not enough to keep him in his tracks. He advanced on the voice, sweeping his hand down to grab the owner of the voice by the scruff of their shirt.  “Ouch! Let me go!”  The body thrashed, flailing its arms back before catching Ouro’s wrist with small nails, he let go to bring his hand up to the eye holes of his mask, seeking the presence of blood. In the time he had taken to search his wrist, the tiny body had run its way across the field about ten feet already. He leaned down on his haunches and shot his tail out towards the body; snatching it around the torso with his thick barbed appendage.  His tailed dragged the squirming person through the grass while he pressed his fingertips to the bottom of the mask, lifting it off his face.

A long, black skinned face was exposed in the moon light. Deep red eyes narrowed while he focused before laying them on the eyes of the intruder. His ears tilted back as if he were defeated, he didn’t recognize this little girl and he felt bad now that he knew it was just a child. What could a child be capable of that he couldn’t handle? More heads popped up past the grass, it seemed a whole group of children had showed up to heckle him. He stood back up, his lanky form a bit more pronounced from a wind that split through the field. He let the girl go to her feet, watching her with a shining smile as she joined her friends. He turned on his heel meaning no harm to the children, only to feel a tug on his pant leg. He curled his tail around himself and he turned back around, looking down his torso to the sad faces of the children.

“We…didn’t believe Abby when she told us about you.” A boy spoke up from the group of tattered children.  “But, you’re real…right?”

The voice of the boy snagged his heart strings, he didn’t want to disappoint, but he also didn’t want to scare them. The affinity for children he developed from spending many days with the Cemetery Keeper’s many children had a heavy weight on his decisions. He heaved a sigh and turned on a heel, bringing his arms from his sides to lift his hands to the sky. He wrapped his fingers around the buzzing body of a firefly and drew it before his chest, crouching down before the girl who tugged on his pants. He gave her a faint smile as he opened his fingers to expose the little star on his palm.

The little girls eyes lit up in the glow of the bug, she clapped her hands seemingly impressed by this simple act. Warmth flooded his chest and mind; he beckoned the other children over to see the captured star. His crimson eyes softening when the flooded around him, dust kicked in their wake. They crowded around him to peer down at the bug as he showed them the other in his left palm. The bugs hovered above his palm before flying around each other the light burning behind them made zigzag patterns in the fading twilight. They started to filter away from him when the thud of footsteps interrupted their fun. The Cemetery Keepers worn hand slapped down on Ouroboros’ shoulder with enough force to lean him over, his mask clattering to the ground before him. The kids ran off with what Ouroboros assumed was an angry gesture, since he heard no voice.

“What are you doing out of the cemetery? You know you’re supposed to watch it while the family sleeps.” The gruff rumble of words echoing years of tobacco use filled Orouboros’ ears. He picked up his mask and pressed the cool surface to his face, pulling the string around his hair to hide it. He stood from his knee and didn’t face the Keeper. He spoke with a hollow sounding appreciation.

“Thank you sir, I had forgotten my place…” He turned around to face his Keeper, a tired desperate look on his face hidden by the painted snake. Remembering his puppet out in the grass he bowed to get a sarcastic dismissal and picked up the dragons head. Lifting it, looking into the empty sockets he felt more pangs of cold around his heart and stomach. Removing the dragons eyes from his pocket he stuffed each one into their respective sockets and the dragon could see him once more.

“Sorry to borrow your eyes old friend, I thought I would be able to see something else for a change.” He moved the dragon’s mouth with a few fingers.

“No problem, I don’t really use them anyway.” His laughter sounded barely amused, almost fake. With this mask on, anyone can be a ventriloquist. With this in mind, he made his way back over to the Keeper, following him back to his safe haven, the sun finally asleep behind the horizon.