When I was very young, I discovered that I had a rather unique gift. Every time I was in a cemetery, I could see more than the cliche name, date and epitaph carved on the stones.
I would later understand that those were the very last thoughts the people buried there had, right before they passed away.
During those years, I’d read an assorted range of the ultimate things that went through people's minds, from *“I am grateful for everything and I am ready to go”*,
to *“Everyone would be better off without me, I am so tired of this”*.
My family never believed me, though, and kept blaming my rich imagination and lack of friends whenever I brought it up. I soon realised it was better to keep everything to myself.
Furthemore, as time passed and I entered high school, I made some new friends and slowly began to forget about my gift.
Very soon, I would barely give it a second thought, like I never even had it.
When I was a sophomore in college, my family's life took a turn for the worse. I got a desperate call from my parents, saying that my five year-old brother, Jeremy, was missing.
In spite of everyone’s efforts, the searches and the posters, he remained nowhere to be found.
The general consensus was that he was somehow lured out of the house in the early morning and then taken, but it was difficult to prove, since nobody saw anything.
Jeremy remained missing for many years, until one misty autumn morning, when a man who was walking his dog found a small child’s scattered remains in a nearby forest.
Our worst fears were confirmed when the tests revealed that they were indeed my brother’s.
After the funeral, as I was almost out of the cemetery, all the flashbacks of my childhood and my gift suddenly came to me.
Without giving it a second thought, I ran back to my brother’s grave and kneeled in front of it. As crazy as it seemed, I was hoping it could give me some insight about what happenned to Jeremy.
Right away, my heart sank as my hazy eyes followed the small words carved into the stone.
*“I don’t like it here. It’s so dark and cold… Mommy said it would be fun, but I’m scared. I hope she comes back soon.”*