— when Kim went to put flowers on his mother's grave as he does every month, he didn't expect to meet a crying boy next to an old unnamed grave —
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"Thank you," Kim smiled at an older florist, and with a bouquet full of white lilies—his mother's favourite, he walked out of the flower shop, making his way towards the cemetery near by.
It was a gloomy and rainy day, but Kim had never skipped a visit to his mother's grave, and he wouldn't start now.
It was early October, and the weather was definitely fully in the autumn spirit. Leaves were mixing with mud and grass under his shoes as he was making his way to his mother's grave.
He had to take the second entrance to the cemetery because there was some reconstructing work being done at the main gate. Through all those years he had been coming, Kim had never gone in from this side. Here, were mainly older graves. Years like 1870, 1919, 1899... were written on the gravestones, giving Kim chills all over his body. Kim was never afraid of cemeteries—he wouldn't spend so much time here if he was, but for some reason, the older the grave was, the more respect and a tad bit of healthy fear he felt.
He turned left to walk around another row of graves to get to his mother's grave, which was still pretty far when he heard it—it wasn't crying... it was almost like a wailing. It was so gutwrenching that it made Kim's own heart hurt for a person who was in such pain that these were the only noises they could make. He turned around, trying to find where the wailing was coming from, and when he did, he was surprised.
It was a young boy, maybe just a little younger than Kim. He was sitting on an unnamed grave, his white shirt a little too old-fashioned, his feet bare.
Instead of just going to his mother's grave as Kim had planned, for some reason, he stepped in the direction of the sad boy. Kim approached him slowly; he didn't want to scare him away. And when he was standing right next to the grave, he carefully asked, "Are you okay? You're crying—it's so sad. Can I help you somehow?"
The boy's head immediately turned to Kim, his face ashen pale, he was looking at Kim with the saddest, but the most beautiful pair of eyes Kim had ever seen.
"N-no one came to my funeral," the boy cried out, and Kim froze.
No one came to his funeral? But... but he was clearly alive. He was right in front of Kim. Kim could see him. He could touch—
When Kim tried to touch the boy's shoulder, his finger went right through it.
The boy sadly shook his head, "dead... for a long time."
Kim gulped down, trying to stay calm and rational. There was no need to be scared. This boy clearly didn't want to hurt him... he needed help. Kim was safe. Maybe a little startled, but safe. He looked at the gravestone again. No name, no year. Would it be too rude if he asked?
