In Memoriam

Dazed, and alone but for the friendly traffic control devices tending the paths and edges, I wandered for hours with tears welling in my eyes. This was almost too much to bear. I wandered through a landscape of memories; a desolate boneyard of accounts no longer in use. Some were old incarnations, others were simply discorporated memories... Thousands of them.

I looked at another of the crescent-shaped stones:
'Uncle Nutsy. Last seen alive serving sandwiches to rescue workers at the Pentagon. Sept 12 2001'

And another:
'mighty cheese. Teaching Rugby and bass guitar to angels. July 15 2002'

And another:
'No12pass. Gone with the wind. March 3 2004'

And another:
'Dr Fowler. Loved and lost. December 29 2002'

And another:
'PeterSealy. Mysteriously disappeared'

There were three identical stones for 'blissmiss', one for 'waugsqueke' and one for 'Steve DeGroof'.

A myriad halfbakers, laid to rest in a myriad of tombs, mausolea, urns and receptacles of all sizes and shapes. Most were adorned with a strange crescent shape, some with what appeared to be an iconic representation of a fish. There even appeared to be a paupers' section, of simple plaques with a name and the inscription, "This account is no longer active"

I had found one tomb, earlier in the day, that defied proper description. It was a cube, fashioned from some sort of unbreakable glass, standing alone in a small plot of beautiful flowers and sweet grasses. Seven animatronic Jack Russell terriers ran endlessly on the lawn, which rotated around the cube on a hidden conveyor belt. I saw a thin, willowly, old woman, almost a waif, tending the flowers as I strolled towards her. No sooner had I looked away briefly than she was gone. Her bag lay on the ground, emblazoned upon it, "Susen".

The cube was filled with a viscous yellow liquid, that seemed to gel to a solid with a thumping sound every few seconds, then gradually liquefy again. Marked in flowing gold script, on the front of the cube

.runforrestrun.
February 13 03

and two and a half of the strange crescents.

Farther on, I spied a dark, hulking edifice of sawn black granite, standing alone. Nothing grew around it where its shadow fell darkest. The earth appeared to have been swept then littered with a frosting of fine white pebbles. A cruel, austere place, reminiscent of the Zen garden at Ryoan-Ji, it told of foreboding and loss; An harbinger of sadness and despair. I felt revulsed by the forlorn imperiousness of the obelisk, yet strangely attracted to it. The surface of the monolith seemed to swim with vague impressions of obscure words that slipped away when you looked directly at them. I shivered, and hurried on...