Veiled Force

• Anjali Gupta, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2016

I was taking photographs alongside the sparkling sea in a small village. The wind was blowing, causing my freshly washed hair to blow over my glossed lips when I noticed some window-panes glinting brightly. I glimpsed at what was inside and could see a group of 15 men. I didn’t think about it too much and began to leave when I noticed graffiti on the walls. As I was observing it, a sudden compelling force took over me.
I lurched forwards and began marching towards the room of men. When I reached it, I heard,
“Enter!” The door opened and I walked in…



I glanced at the people surrounding me, trying to understand what was going on. The room had a faint aura to it, giving it a mystical feel and there was a peculiar aroma lingering around, much like burning sulphur. Then, an elderly man came forth. His face was unshaven and his bones creaked with every step.
“Welcome,” he rasped, “You are to go restore the graves!”
I listened to the man but was perplexed. Restore the graves?
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
“From now on, you keep the energy of the dead alive by restoring graves.”
Hearing this, I left and started walking away. I didn’t know where I was going but could feel the force, dragging me along till I reached a cemetery….

Without any hesitation, I walked towards a grave. When I reached it, I started restoring it. I was cleaning the surroundings of the grave when I read the gravestone. The name on the stone, Leila Cliffords, seemed familiar. Was it an aunt? No, it seemed too close to my heart. My head spun and I fell, unaware of what was going on. When I aroused, I couldn’t remember where I was. I gazed around and it all came back to me in an instant. The grave, the one with the name. I ran over to it and re-read the name repeatedly in shock. I recognised the name, it was my mother’s…

I began weeping and started leaving when I realised I could no longer feel the force. Why had it led me here? Why my mothers grave? I had so many questions yet no-one to answer them. I walked towards the village but when I arrived, there was no-one around. No-one but me but then I spotted the men again. I gulped and ran to hide but it was too late. They saw me and approached me until the frail, old man was towering over me.
“How is she back?” he asked. There were no replies.
“Name?” he commanded.
“Althea Cliffords,” I stuttered.
Hearing this, the man collapsed, wheezing and coughing. He pointed, his eyes wide…

“Althea? Leila’s daughter?”
I looked at him, confused.
“Let me explain,” he said, “You are the daughter of Leila and Charles Cliffords and I’m your grandfather. Just days before you were born, your father was hiking in the Himalayas when he became stuck and died. When you were born, your mother felt guilty for living without him and committed suicide, leaving you behind.” He paused, tears glistening in his eyes. “I searched for you everywhere but eventually lost hope and began using hypnosis to compel people to go and restore graves by cleaning them, keeping the souls of the dead awake but now that I’ve found you, I will stop, just please forgive me!” he wept, getting down on his knees. In reply, I bent down, embraced him and we wept together and I knew that somewhere, my mother and father would be doing the same.