Angels of Marble
Cemeteries are peaceful places where residents don’t argue, pick fights, or play sides. The only side they have is on the other. It’s a pleasant state of being, but sometimes even the living can’t deserve to cross the divide.
Samael made his way around the gravestones, touching each one, wondering what each person did in their lives. He wondered if they were young, old, or if they found love or misery in their time on earth. He wondered if they were happier now than they were when they were living.
Ivy hung from the oak trees and twisted around their trunks, leading him to a tall tombstone with an angel on top. Samael could see the ivy around the tombstone, but it didn’t go near the angel who held roses in her arms. Her face had eyes that seemed determined to carry on a sacred task. Samael was drawn to her.
The grave she protected was of a woman named Samara Rose. She died in 1919 during the flu pandemic early in the last century. Samael walked over to read the details when he felt pushed back by a strong force. He got up and walked back to the grave determined to push back. His name meant demon, and he knew he wasn’t allowed to cross the divide. He looked at her name – Samara. In many languages it meant protected by God. He just smiled.
He wasn’t afraid. His destiny was not tied to this world or the next; he just wandered aimlessly, encouraging people to make decisions they didn’t want to make. As a demon, he didn’t have anything to win or lose. Putting his hand down on the ground near Samara’s grave, he closed his eyes and listened. He could hear people’s stories, the consciousness that stayed with the dead.
He didn’t hear anything. Strange, he thought, there’s always some kind life residue left behind. Regret, anger, pettiness, pain – something was always under the ground. Instead, the ivy pulled his arm down under the dirt. Without a struggle, Samael ceased to be, becoming one of the angel’s roses.