A Night in the Cemetery

A DEAD BODY

It was a quiet, still night in August. The fog slowly lifted from over the field and covered everything as far as could be seen. In the full moon, it looked like either a quiet limitless sea or a huge white wall. The air was damp and cold. Dawn was still a long way off.

A few steps away from the edge of a huge forest, a small, flickering light could be glimpsed. Under a young oak lay a dead body, swathed from head to toe in clean white linen. A small amulet lay on its chest. Next to the dead body, there were two guards on duty, two local farmers who were doing one of the most unpleasant and disrespected duties in the neighborhood. One had a barely visible mustache and thick, dark eyebrows. He was sitting on the wet grass in a torn overcoat and peasant boots, stretching his legs, trying to pass the time with a little work. He made a loud noise as he drew his breath, carving a spoon from a piece of wood.

The second, elderly man was short, his face covered with smallpox scars, with a thin mustache and a small goatee. He sat with his hands clasped around his bent knees, motionless on the ground, looking at the fire. Right between them was a little bonfire, flickering slightly and almost dying, lighting their faces with a red glow. It was quiet: only the wood being scraped by the cutting knife and the firewood crackling as it burned could be heard.

“And you, Sam, do not fall asleep,” the young man said.

“I am not sleeping,” the man with the goatee said. “It is too scary for just one person to sit here alone.”

“You are a strange man, Sam! Others would laugh, tell stories, but you—well, you just sit here staring at the fire, like a scarecrow, with your eyes wide open. You cannot even say a word properly. You speak as if you are afraid of something. You’ve already passed fifty, and you have less intelligence than a child. Are you disappointed that you are a half-wit?”

“Yes, I am,” the goateed man replied gloomily.

“Then, what do you think, is it pleasant for the rest of us to be around your stupidity? You are a kind man, you don’t drink, but with this misfortune, you simply don’t have any brains. Since God took the ability to think away from you, then you should at least make the effort to try to think by yourself. Just try, Sam. When you hear people say something clever, you would do well to listen and think it over. Think! If you do not understand something, make an effort, try to understand the meaning of the word. Do you know what I am talking about? Make an effort! For if you do not, you will live out the rest of your life like this, and die a half-wit.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp, loud noise that came from the forest, from not too far off. It seemed that something fell from the top of a tree, making a shuffling noise as it fell to the ground. The night echo repeated the sound. The younger man trembled, looking at his friend with a questioning face.

“It’s an owl, it is out hunting little birds,” Sam stated gloomily.

“Sam, the birds should have flown south by now.”

“Yes, the time has come.”

“The nights are growing colder.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Herons are very tender and sensitive birds. A cold like this would be the death of them. I am getting cold, too. Can you put more wood on the fire?”

Sam stood up and disappeared into the dark forest.

While Sam was busy breaking up the dry branches, his friend closed his eyes, startled by every sharp sound. Sam brought a bunch of firewood from the bush and placed it on top of the bonfire. The fire lazily licked the black branches with its fiery tongue. Suddenly, as if given an order, the fire embraced the branches, illuminating the road, the contours of the bush, the dead body, and the faces of two men with a red glow.

The guardmen kept silent. The younger man bent his neck even lower as he nervously returned to his work. The man with the goatee sat motionless as before, without averting his gaze from the fire.

“Those who hate Zion will be ashamed by God,” they suddenly heard a male voice recite in the dark. Then they heard quiet steps and glimpsed a dark figure appear, lit by the crimson light of the bonfire. He was dressed in a long black overcoat and a white hat, wearing a dark knapsack on his back.

“God has his will for everything. Oh, my Lord,” the man spoke in a very high-pitched voice. “I saw light in the darkness, and rejoiced. First I thought you were one of locals bringing their herds to the pastures. But I figured that you could not be cowboys because I could not see your horses. Then I thought that you were robbers, or traveling gypsy musicians. However I thought that whatever happens will happen, and I hurried due to the cold. When I got closer, I realized that you were neither robbers nor traveling gypsies. Peace be to you!”

“Hello. What can we do for you?”

“Hey brothers, can you tell me how to get to the Mackuhin factory?”

“It is close by. Go straight, just keep on walking along this road for about two miles, and you will see the village of Ananovo. That is where we live. From there, my friend, turn right at the riverbank and after a while you will see the Ananovo Factory buildings in the distance, about three miles.”

“Thank God! And why are you sitting here?”

“We are on guard duty. Do not you see the dead body?”

“What? Where is the body? Oh my goodness!” The wanderer saw the dead body and trembled so hard his hands jittered.

This unusual situation left a depressing impression on the stranger. He bent over, opened his mouth without saying a word, eyes bulging, and stood motionless for about three minutes, as if he did not believe his eyes. He then started mumbling very quickly, “Oh my God! I was walking without bothering anyone, and here I find this ordeal in the middle of the night. Oh my God!”

“Where are you going? Are you a clergyman?”

“No-no, I was just returning home from a visit to a monastery. Do you know the factory manager, Michael, Michael Polikarpych? I am his nephew. Oh my God! Everything in God’s hands. And what are you doing here?”

“We are guarding the body.”

“Oh yes, yes,” the man in the black overcoat mumbled. “And where did he come from, this dead man?”

“He is just a traveler who died passing through town.”

“So brothers, I have to go. I am scared to death! I am afraid of dead bodies over all else, and now look at this. When a person is living, no one cares, but when he is dead and decaying, we are afraid of him. Maybe he was a great general, or another important leader. How was he killed?”

“Who knows? Only God knows. Maybe he was murdered, maybe he died by himself. We have no idea.”

“Oh, yes, yes. And you know, brothers, maybe his soul is enjoying the pleasures of paradise.”

“His soul is still wandering around his body,” said one of the men on duty. “The soul does not go far from the body for three days.”

“Yes, so people say. So should I go straight, without turning?”

“Yes, until you get to the village. And then you have to turn right, at the riverbank.”

“When I get to the riverbank, I walk along it? All right, I’d better get going. Good-bye, brothers!”

The man in the back overcoat took about five steps along the road and then stopped. “I forgot to leave a penny for his burial. Brothers, can I put a penny here?”

“You should know better, because you have been visiting the monastery. If he died from natural causes, then it will be for his soul; if he killed himself, it’s a sin.”

“It’s true. If he killed himself, then it is better I keep my money, for all men are sinners…. Even if you give me ten thousand rubles, I would never stay here overnight. Good-bye, brothers.”

The man in the black overcoat walked away a few more steps and again stopped. “I cannot decide what I should do next,” he mumbled. “Should I stay here near the bonfire and wait till dawn? That is scary. To walk away into the darkness is scary, too. The whole way, the picture of the dead man will be all I can see. Here is my ordeal. I went for a few hundred miles, and it was all right, but now when I get closer to my house … Oh my goodness, I cannot walk anymore.”

“It’s true, this is scary.”

“I am not afraid of wolves, robbers, or darkness, but I am afraid of dead bodies. I’m scared, that’s all there is to it. Hey brothers, I am asking you—I beg you, please take me to the village!”

“We are not allowed to leave the body.”

“No one will know, brothers. I am telling you, no one will see it. God will reward you for this! Hey you, with the beard, please do me this favor! Hey you! Why are you so quiet?”

“He is our village fool,” answered the young man.

“Then you will please see me off, my friend! I will give you fifty kopecks.”

“If I could, I would,” the man said, rubbing the back of his head, “but it is not allowed. However, if Sam agrees to sit here by himself, I will. Hey Sam, will you stay by yourself?”

“Yes, I will,” the local fool replied.

“Then we’re agreed.”

The young man stood up, and went with the man in the black overcoat. A minute later, their steps and their conversation faded away. Sam closed his eyes, and sat quietly. The fire began to die out, getting darker and darker, until the dead body was covered with a big black shadow.