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Exorcising some literary demons spawned from yesterday's thought. Any comment or feedback would be appreciated. - xoxo MEL
MEMORIAL
"Why are we here?"
Barry Gordon glanced at the young man walking beside him. "To remember."
Cassius frowned. "Who?"
A smile slid across Barry's face. "The one who started this all." He held up a hand to forestall any other questions. "Come on."
The cemetery was neatly kept, the lawns freshly trimmed, the smell of damp grass filling the air. Barry's chair slid over the damp concrete pathways with the whir of electric motors. Cass stalked beside him, hands stuck into the pockets of his jeans, dark eyes watching Barry from behind a fringe of black hair.
They came to an older section of the graveyard, where the graves were more unkempt, the grass allowed to grow more freely, checked only by the weight of shadows from towering, ancient oak trees. Barry guided his chair off the cracked path. Leaves squished damply beneath the wheels of his chair. Cass followed, silent and grim as any specter.
Abruptly, Barry came to a stop. "Here," he said.
Cass glanced at the gravestone. It was unremarkable, the same as most of the others around it. "Who was he?"
"Kenneth Kale," said Barry. "The Bat-Man."
Cass blinked. "Who?"
Barry smiled, a bit sadly. "It's a long story."
Cass shrugged and squatted by the grave. "We've got time."
MEMORIAL
"Why are we here?"
Barry Gordon glanced at the young man walking beside him. "To remember."
Cassius frowned. "Who?"
A smile slid across Barry's face. "The one who started this all." He held up a hand to forestall any other questions. "Come on."
The cemetery was neatly kept, the lawns freshly trimmed, the smell of damp grass filling the air. Barry's chair slid over the damp concrete pathways with the whir of electric motors. Cass stalked beside him, hands stuck into the pockets of his jeans, dark eyes watching Barry from behind a fringe of black hair.
They came to an older section of the graveyard, where the graves were more unkempt, the grass allowed to grow more freely, checked only by the weight of shadows from towering, ancient oak trees. Barry guided his chair off the cracked path. Leaves squished damply beneath the wheels of his chair. Cass followed, silent and grim as any specter.
Abruptly, Barry came to a stop. "Here," he said.
Cass glanced at the gravestone. It was unremarkable, the same as most of the others around it. "Who was he?"
"Kenneth Kale," said Barry. "The Bat-Man."
Cass blinked. "Who?"
Barry smiled, a bit sadly. "It's a long story."
Cass shrugged and squatted by the grave. "We've got time."
