"I wasn't always the caretaker here." I say it quiet, hoping she miss it, already pulling up the security footage on my phone. Not the cheap camera the city put on the gate, but the good ones I installed.

"Where were you the caretaker before?" God, I love the way kids think. I debated how to correct her, but decided not to. She wasn't entirely wrong.

"I took care of the living before. I learned how to deal with... Bad people. You don't want him coming back, right?"

"Her. No, she's scary."

Her. Now I have to ask. Women killers are a lot more like to be related to the victim. I know it's not her mother, because Mommy is buried next to her. No ghost there, sadly. "Is she someone you knew? An aunt or family friend?"

"No. Just some lady. She killed Mommy, too." Now that worries me. Her mom didn't die with little Sophie here. She went a week earlier in a house fire. No one knew it was murder.

I get the shot up. Sure enough, it's a woman in her mid-forties, wearing a simple black dress. Smiling that shark smile I know too well.

"The Pike," I whisper under my breath. Thankfully, she misses that. Also, thankfully, my old friend didn't see me. I worked hard to get out, cover my tracks, but if anyone could find me, it was her. I ask, "Did she see you?"

"No, I stayed up in the tree. I was playing hide'n'seek with Tommy and Jedediah."

I watched the clip of her leaving in a rental car. I hadn't hacked this cities traffic cams yet, hadn't needed to before, but this called for it.

"Soph," I put away my phone and kneel to match her height. "You don't need to worry. I'm going to go talk to her and make sure she knows she isn't allowed here." She still looks scared. "And I'll tell Joani and Earl about her, too. She broke the rules, so she can't come here anymore."

Sophie relaxed at that. Thankfully, she passed young enough to think that adults have some sort of magical aurhority. And she doesn't need to know about the extra work I'm going to do.

She used to hang by the lilies in the garden.

She wasn't Anderson's first "friend". Every now and then, somebody somewhere eventually dies with an unfinished business, and gets buried in the cemetery he works at. It was unsettling to have them around at first but he got used to it as time passed. They have been there for like, forever, as long as he could remember. And to be frank, night shifts were unbearable without the occasional chit-chat.

He had met with hundreds of others. They all would move on eventually, because Anderson wasn't called "The Caretaker" for no reason, even though no one else knew. He helped them. Before they moved on, some of them just needed to haunt their buddies as pranks. Some of them wanted their families and pets taken care of. Some of them wanted to know what happens in the finale of their favorite series or in that god damned book that never seems to come out.

But Maggie seemed to be different.

She had been here for months now and never had he ever seen her go anywhere but the gardens right across her grave. She would just sit by and watch the lilies. Sometimes deep in thought, contemplating. Sometimes smiling. And sometimes crying. Anderson would drop by from time to time but it was only small talk. She never mentioned any regrets, family to take care of or any other business lingering about, causing her soul to bind to this plane of reality.

Until the night when she suddenly popped up in Anderson's office while he was having a snack. Anderson was used to his friends being cheeky little menaces; everybody would wonder what they could do and could not do as ghosts and Anderson usually became an unwilling lab rat when they were still exploring their new being.

But he had grown used to Maggie and her sulking, he didn't expect her to appear out of nowhere.

After he was able to breath, they greeted each other and after a bit of hesitation, Maggie asked.

"Could you, umm, help me with something?"

Anderson was taken aback. He had been asking the same since she got here but he never got a response except no thanks.

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

"How does this work? What happens after?"

Anderson took off his glasses and started to clean them.

"Well, usually there is something you haven't resolved yet that binds you to this world. And until it is resolved you sort of hang around."

"Do I get to keep existing if it is resolved?"

That was a hard question Anderson wasn't ready for. Did any of them? He paused for a bit. "I... don't know. But usually people find a way to..."

Maggie interrupted her. "I know what to do. He came to visit me today, for the first time, and we... well he talked. He blames himself. If I could just ensure him..." Maggie paused.

"Then you would move on."

"Move onto where?" Maggie started pacing aroud the room as Anderson didn't reply.

"Who is he?" Anderson asked.

"My boyfriend."

"Why does he blame himself?"

Maggie sighed deeply. "It was a car accident. He swerved to avoid a deer and we hit a tree. He survived, and I... you know."

"He was lucky."

Maggie started yelling. "Lucky? Everybody blamed him, cops were on his ass. Pressure got to him and he quit his job and started drinking. He's miserable."

"And instead of doing something about it, you stared at lilies and watched him be miserable for months."

Maggie frowned. "At least I get to watch him. What's the alternative? Nothing. Darkness and void."

Anderson chuckled. "I had never seen a ghost afraid of "darkness and void" before. You probably had the same doubts when you were living. You died, ended up as a ghost and you have the same doubts again?" His humor wasn't reciprocated. Maggie kept staring at him like a stonewall. Anderson wiped the smile off his face and continued.

"Listen, one day he will think of you and realize he does not blame himself any longer. And then you will move on anyway. You can save him from blaming himself until then, and yourself from watching his misery."

Maggie looked out the window as she teared up. She tried to move the curtains, but her hands went through the cloth. Anderson moved them for her. "That seems to be the logical choice. And the right choice. For him and me. Yet it's so hard to..."

Anderson put his hand on her shoulder and comforted her. She was almost instantly soothed. Anderson asked softly, almost whispering.

"It's okay. How can I help?"

They got out of the office and started walking towards her grave.

"We should be discreet about this, right?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah, unless you want him to go insane."

"Send him some lillies. Make it a mix-up, maybe like it was for one of the neighboors but it accidentally ends up at our house?"

"Consider it done."

Maggie raised one of her eyebrows. "You thought that he would go insane if it was obvious. How come you haven't?"

Anderson smiled wrly. "Comes with the job I guess." He picked up one of the lilies and handed it to Maggie. It fell out of her transparent hands, Anderson picked it up. "Why the lilies?"

"We used to grow them together, but life got in the way. We're too busy to be gardening since we got the jobs, you know? If it works, he'll take it as a sign and hopefully it won't be too obvious."

Anderson looked up at the horizon, to the rising sun. "I should be going. If it works, good luck."

Maggie teared up once again, as they shook hands and said their farewells.

The afternoon nextday Anderson came to the cemetery\ checked the garden, and then Maggie's grave. She was no where to be found, but the lilies he sent were on her grave.

Death was no stranger to me. I was surrounded by it growing up. As a child my village was ravaged by war that we had no say in, no real part in. When I got out, when I got to a better place, I still chose lines of work that dealt with death. I was emergency medical technician, I was a mortuary assistant, I was a cemetery caretaker.

All my life I surrounded myself with death. It was not on purpose at first, of course. But somehow I was drawn to it. And it to me. The dead liked me, and in some ways I liked them. Because the dead told stories of truth. The dead did not lie. And that was comforting for me.

Maybe I should have gone to therapy earlier in life. So I would deal with things more healthily. But I was fine where I was. Working nights, away from people. It was quiet where I was. And I liked the quiet.

The cemetery was filled with ghosts.

The whole country was, brimming with phantoms and echoes of the past that anyone could see if they chose to look. Young, old, innocent, guilty. People. At the end of the day, that was all they were, all they were used to be. People.

Each with their story to tell, should they remember it.

I sat on the rickety office chair, filling out a building defect checklist to hand in the next day. I could hear the hum of the florescent light above me, a low, uninterrupted noise that provided the backbone of the symphony of buzzing from the autumn insects that flitted around this singular light source.

I put the list away, and looked out the window. I could see them, the shapes that wandered. Some aimlessly, some with purpose, some that just stood, watching. I knew there would be a few outside my door, waiting for me. They liked to stare. They liked to think they were creepy, trying to scare me. Some liked to do that, when they realised they could be seen. They liked to perceived as frightening. As if in their boredom all they had was this.

Most of them usually ignored everything. They stuck close to where they passed, or close to a loved one. They also liked to watch the living, but in a passive, mildly longing way.

But some were talkative. Especially when they found someone who could hear them and talk back.

Radhika was nine years old. She was strangled to death according to her autopsy. No killer was ever found, and her family mourned her deeply.

She was also at the window, looking urgently at me and beckoning.

I put the checklist on the drawer and left the room, being greeted by the scary ones at the door. They were looming, one of the door frame, one hovering a few meters in front of me, pointing at me with jaws opened impossibly wide. One was crawling towards me rapidly, breathing raspily and erratically.

I gave them all an awkward smile, sidestepped the crawling ghost and went to meet up with Radhika.

"They don't like that." She told me, looking at theghosts outside my door.

"Huh?" I asked.

"They're supposed to be the scary ones. But you're not scared of them. They don't like that." She said, worriedly.

"Are you scared of them?" I asked.

"Yeah. They're... They follow you. Not just you. They follow everyone. And even if the person they're following can't see them, they can feel them there. And it's not nice. Why are they like that?"

"I don't know. I can only guess that they're bored."

We both stared at the three ghosts that had tried to scare me. They were slowly dispersing, and I could feel their disappointment.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Oh! I saw her! I saw the woman who killed me yesterday! I wanted to tell you but Jeeva was the one working. And he can't see me."

"Wait, you saw her?"

Radhika nodded, eyes wide.

"Is she going to kill me again? Does she know I'm a ghost? Does she want to kill me when I'm a ghost?" Radhika was trembling.

I wanted to hold her, comfort her. But that was not the prerogative of the living.

"No, Radhi. She can't hurt you anymore."

"Then why did she come here? She was looking for me, right?"

"For your gravestone. Maybe to see where you were buried."

"But why?"

"I'm sorry, Radhika. I don't know."

"But she was here. She was here last night. Maybe she'll come again today."

"Come, let's look at our camera to see what she looked like."

I never really liked this part of the job, but I suppose it had to be done.

I watch over a cemetery. I keep the graves neat, plant some flowers around lonely graves, and talk to the ghosts. Every good cemetery has ghosts. Sure, there's the odd person with unfinished business, and I'll help them out if I can. Sometimes they just need to sort things out by themselves before they move on, though.

But no, that wasn't most ghosts. Most of the ghosts in my cemetery just... weren't interested in moving on just yet. They were bored and wanted to wander around. I was always happy to chat with them. It was fascinating hearing their stories and such. Most ghosts can interact with things to a very limited degree, so I can even play catch with some of the younger ghosts.

One of those younger ghosts, actually... When her body had come in, I hadn't questioned it. Kids die... more than I like, but accidents happen. I was a little surprised when she became a ghost, and even more so when she seemed unable to move on. Essentially, ghosts are tied to this world by desires. Once all their desires are done, they can move on to their afterlives... whenever they want.

This kid, who didn't have a clue what puberty even was, couldn't move on. Even more curiously, she didn't have a clue why she could be stuck here. A mystery, to be sure, and one that I supposed I'd be willing to keep an eye out for. Maybe something would happen with her gravesite. It wouldn't be the first time.

...Except then someone did visit.

I'd been at the funeral. I make a point to be at every funeral for everybody who's going to be buried at my cemetery. It gives me an idea of friends, family, that sort of things. I like to give some trinkets or gift cards to the families of the deceased. Perhaps it's my conscious affecting me.

This woman wasn't someone I recognized. She walked in quickly, stealthily, quietly. She thought nobody noticed her, but... it's hard to hide from ghosts in a cemetery. Especially if you head straight to the grave of the person you killed. At least, according to the young girl.

She didn't look half bad, admittedly. It was about time something like this happened. I'd been waiting long enough for someone to show up that I'd feel no guilt towards.

I asked her who it was. She told me she doesnt know who. Only that she could feel their energy and she knew her murderer had come to her grave. However it was a slow day at the cemetery. As far as I know the only people who visited were there to discuss expanding the cemetary into a nearby farm field. The group was small. The town mayor, the parks and rec supervisor, a local priest, the farmer and two lawyers.

I will help her find peace. I will find out who in that group killed this poor child if its the last thing I do.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[poem]

I’d like to imagine characters and stories

but of course I must be the caretaker

and of course I must be the ghost of a young girl

and of course I must be her killer, visiting her grave which I tend in the shower and kitchen and gym.

[removed]