The Forgotten
Near the very back of Thorn Creek Cemetery lie the graves of those long gone. No longer do families tend the markers of their loved ones. Here, the trees have grown tall, mostly overtaking the graves they were planted to give shade to. The grave stones, covered by lichens have unreadable names and are broken with age. They serve as the only reminder that this too is hallowed ground. These woods are quiet. Birds do not sing their fanciful songs, squirrels do not scavenge for food, and deer do not retreat here to escape the hot summer heat. In fact, the only semblances of animal life are thick vines that twist and curl around the trees and across the ground like giant moss covered snakes that never move. Now, in the eternal darkness of the still woods, the spirits of these graves are free to roam about without the fear of sunlight ever touching their spectral bodies.
At the wood's edge stands a testament to days gone by. Here, like the woods, have been forgotten, but there are no trees to overtake the graves, only the grass that has long gone to seed. Like a phoenix rising up out of the grass and weeds is Eliza. Unlike the Phoenix though, she will never again feel the sunshine kiss her face. 
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