Graveyard Descriptive Writing

The uncontrollable, insufferable stench pervaded the gloomy passage, I walked on in anxiety. My limbs quivered hysterically not because of cold, but of the trembling shadows around the asphalt pavement. Petrified and juddering, I uttered prayers in murmurs, imploring God or angels to protect me in this vile, desolate place. I felt instinctively that I had embarked on danger. To enter the graveyard I must skirt around a stack of brown frosted leaves, the countless flashing fragments shine in the vivid bitter light. I see the dimness in the graveyard, the cruelty and peace. Rows of tombstones stood rigid in stillness to the left and right, in front and behind, like a sea of the dead. Some were powdered with the weathering of eras; some were smooth marble with new black writing and laid with floral honours others were fractured and decaying. Most however, remained dense and unkempt, for now even their grievers had joined

The grave gleamed in the early light that streamed through the cathedral windows. It was built with love to be the ultimate resting sign of one who had been so adored in their lifetime. The gravestone stood there with its youthful glow, robust and erect, ready to last decades or more. No matter how hard the wind blew, or how heavy the rain fell, it stood. No fire could tear it down so easily. The representation of the immortality that the soul expresses. Painted and engraved with numbers, and R.I.P.'s. The holder of love, sadness, and anger. Stones of death, for those alive. Yet, he has already perished and initiated his inevitable decay. The gravestone was unclean, full of scratches and we could feel the agony growing in that zone around the gravestone. The engraving on his gravestone was almost warn away by decades of rain, once sharp edged letter now rounded and so shallow as to be barely readable, standing as a testimony to the life of someone long forgotten, in the shadow of a great Yew