General

As Audry passed through the graveyard a small tombstone caught her eye. It was half the size of the others and almost overtaken with weeds. From the weathering she surmised that it must be old. She bent down to clear the plants away and when the inscription was revealed she froze, taking in the meaning. The carving was crude, as if done by a family member rather than a professional. There was no date or name or message. There was just one word, "baby." All they way home she wondered what story could have lead to such a grave.

General

Moss and ivy growing all over the back of the great slab of grey granite, engraving almost worn away by centuries of rain, once sharp edged letters 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 tree.

By angela, March 5, 2012.