Everything Started A Silent Night At The Graveyard, chapter 1
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11:30 PM.
I was at the graveyard, nothing special. I spent a lot of time there, every night actually. Taking walks, thinking. Looking at old graves. That's what I was doing when this story starts. Looking at an old grave.
I had no idea who the dead guy was, but I still looked at it, felt sorry for him. I started thinking about death, and stuff like that. What happens when you die? Heaven? Hell? Paradise? I sighed. Why do I think about it when it drives me nuts? I sat down at the grass, kept looking at the grave without really looking at it. My thoughts were another place, I thought about the scars on my arms. I thought about my mum who was dead. I thought about my dad who beat the shit outta me every day. I thought about my dad who raped me. I thought about the time I tried to kill myself... I shook my head and tried to stop thinking about it, so I read the name and date at the gravestone. James Cook, 1873 - 1967. I wondered how he looked like, what he liked to do. How he was as a person. Then my thoughts got interrupted.
"Hey there" A man voice said behind me. Usually it would have made me jump, but not this time. I had sort of sensed he was there.
"Hey" I answered without looking at him. He sat down next to me, and I turned to look at him. That's when I jumped. Billie Joe Armstrong. Thankfully he was also watching the gravestone, so he didn't see me jump. I decided to pretend I didn't recognize him; he probably met enough teenies who tackled him to the ground and begged for his autograph. I continued to look at the gravestone.
"Know the guy?" He asked, and I laughed quietly.
"I'm not that old" I answered and looked at him again. He smirked.
"I guess you're right" He said. We went silent for a while. "How old are you?" He then asked.
"Fourteen. I'll turn fifteen in October" I answered. We were in September then. I looked at the clock.
12:00
He also looked at his clock. He looked a bit sad. 'Why? ' I asked myself.
"So... Why are you here?" He asked. I shrugged.
"No special reason. I'm here every night, just walking around looking at the graves. Thinking. Why are you here?" I asked. He looked down at his shoes.
"Well... Today's my father's death day" He said, and I mentally kicked myself for asking. I should have understood that! I was a big fan of Green Day so I knew that his father died in September. Then he continued talking. "Every year I come here around midnight and stay here to about 10 AM... Then other people start coming so I go home." I didn't know what to answer, so it was an awkward silence.
"I'm sorry about your father" I said and got up. "I guess you want to be alone" I added and started walking.
"No, wait!" He shouted and I turned around to look at him. "I really want you to stay" He said and walked over to me. I smiled and looked at the ground.
"If you're sure... " I said. He nodded and we went for his father's grave. We sat down in front of it and were silent for a long while. Then Billie spoke up again.
"I guess I shouldn't keep you here. Your parents are most likely waiting for you, this is probably getting you in trouble." I smiled.
"My mom's dead and my dad doesn't need a reason to beat me up" I answered. He looked wide-eyed at me. Then he looked down again.
"I'm so sorry" He whispered. I shrugged.
"I guess I'm used to it" I mumbled. He tried to look me in the eyes, but I didn't. I had a problem with looking people in the eyes, I just couldn't. Tears started streaming down my face. Why was I crying? Billie Joe was the one who had a right to cry, it was his fathers death day. He put his hand under my chin, pushed it carefully up and forced me to look at him.
"No one should be used to that" He said and I saw that he had tears in his eyes.
I didn't know what to do, I had just made Billie Joe Armstrong cry because of my fucked up life. He hesitated for a second or two, and then he hugged me. Ok, I was shocked, I admit it. I mean, he was fucking hugging me! And I had only known him for a half hour! But of course I hugged him back. I pulled out of the hug and he looked at me for a few seconds. All of a sudden he pulled up my sleeves and revealed my scars.
"Hey!" I yelled and quickly pulled them back down. He looked at me again, it felt like he looked into my soul, knew everything about me. He cleared his throat.
"Erm... I would like to have your number. Just so I can call you and talk with you. I know what it's like, I can help you through" He said. I hesitated. I mean, it sounded a bit suspicious, right? Hey, it's Billie Joe Armstrong! He's not going to do me anything... I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my pocket and wrote down my name and number. He borrowed my pen and wrote his number on another piece of paper. I was about to leave when he stopped me again.
"Hey, Ira!" Yeah that's me. I know, weird name and I hate it.
"What?" I asked. He smiled sadly.
"Take care." I smiled.
"You too" I said. Then I went home to my living hell.
I was at the graveyard, nothing special. I spent a lot of time there, every night actually. Taking walks, thinking. Looking at old graves. That's what I was doing when this story starts. Looking at an old grave.
I had no idea who the dead guy was, but I still looked at it, felt sorry for him. I started thinking about death, and stuff like that. What happens when you die? Heaven? Hell? Paradise? I sighed. Why do I think about it when it drives me nuts? I sat down at the grass, kept looking at the grave without really looking at it. My thoughts were another place, I thought about the scars on my arms. I thought about my mum who was dead. I thought about my dad who beat the shit outta me every day. I thought about my dad who raped me. I thought about the time I tried to kill myself... I shook my head and tried to stop thinking about it, so I read the name and date at the gravestone. James Cook, 1873 - 1967. I wondered how he looked like, what he liked to do. How he was as a person. Then my thoughts got interrupted.
"Hey there" A man voice said behind me. Usually it would have made me jump, but not this time. I had sort of sensed he was there.
"Hey" I answered without looking at him. He sat down next to me, and I turned to look at him. That's when I jumped. Billie Joe Armstrong. Thankfully he was also watching the gravestone, so he didn't see me jump. I decided to pretend I didn't recognize him; he probably met enough teenies who tackled him to the ground and begged for his autograph. I continued to look at the gravestone.
"Know the guy?" He asked, and I laughed quietly.
"I'm not that old" I answered and looked at him again. He smirked.
"I guess you're right" He said. We went silent for a while. "How old are you?" He then asked.
"Fourteen. I'll turn fifteen in October" I answered. We were in September then. I looked at the clock.
12:00
He also looked at his clock. He looked a bit sad. 'Why? ' I asked myself.
"So... Why are you here?" He asked. I shrugged.
"No special reason. I'm here every night, just walking around looking at the graves. Thinking. Why are you here?" I asked. He looked down at his shoes.
"Well... Today's my father's death day" He said, and I mentally kicked myself for asking. I should have understood that! I was a big fan of Green Day so I knew that his father died in September. Then he continued talking. "Every year I come here around midnight and stay here to about 10 AM... Then other people start coming so I go home." I didn't know what to answer, so it was an awkward silence.
"I'm sorry about your father" I said and got up. "I guess you want to be alone" I added and started walking.
"No, wait!" He shouted and I turned around to look at him. "I really want you to stay" He said and walked over to me. I smiled and looked at the ground.
"If you're sure... " I said. He nodded and we went for his father's grave. We sat down in front of it and were silent for a long while. Then Billie spoke up again.
"I guess I shouldn't keep you here. Your parents are most likely waiting for you, this is probably getting you in trouble." I smiled.
"My mom's dead and my dad doesn't need a reason to beat me up" I answered. He looked wide-eyed at me. Then he looked down again.
"I'm so sorry" He whispered. I shrugged.
"I guess I'm used to it" I mumbled. He tried to look me in the eyes, but I didn't. I had a problem with looking people in the eyes, I just couldn't. Tears started streaming down my face. Why was I crying? Billie Joe was the one who had a right to cry, it was his fathers death day. He put his hand under my chin, pushed it carefully up and forced me to look at him.
"No one should be used to that" He said and I saw that he had tears in his eyes.
I didn't know what to do, I had just made Billie Joe Armstrong cry because of my fucked up life. He hesitated for a second or two, and then he hugged me. Ok, I was shocked, I admit it. I mean, he was fucking hugging me! And I had only known him for a half hour! But of course I hugged him back. I pulled out of the hug and he looked at me for a few seconds. All of a sudden he pulled up my sleeves and revealed my scars.
"Hey!" I yelled and quickly pulled them back down. He looked at me again, it felt like he looked into my soul, knew everything about me. He cleared his throat.
"Erm... I would like to have your number. Just so I can call you and talk with you. I know what it's like, I can help you through" He said. I hesitated. I mean, it sounded a bit suspicious, right? Hey, it's Billie Joe Armstrong! He's not going to do me anything... I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my pocket and wrote down my name and number. He borrowed my pen and wrote his number on another piece of paper. I was about to leave when he stopped me again.
"Hey, Ira!" Yeah that's me. I know, weird name and I hate it.
"What?" I asked. He smiled sadly.
"Take care." I smiled.
"You too" I said. Then I went home to my living hell.
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