The Sacrificial Grave

(Word count: 1000 words)

Charles Banbrauer looked out over the front lawn of his family’s house. His father, Shem Banbrauer, had just come home from work, and boy was he angry. Charles stood there, in the front lawn, looking at the old lawnmower that he hadn’t used in over a year at that point. He stood there in thought, trying his best to appear cheerful. A few minutes later, Shem accosted Charles where he stood. It had begun to rain, but Charles dared not move.
“Why did you do it? I was your father. I would have done anything for you. Anything.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You were my flesh and blood; as close to me as this red, white, and blue. I could have raised you.”
“You’re still my father. You can’t change that with your fancy court papers. You can abandon me, but you’ll never forget.”
“I want you out of this house in an hour. I don’t care where you go. Just leave. You’re at the age of majority. It’s your choice.”
The next morning was rather hot. Charles had been walking west, down one of the longest roads in the state, looking for anywhere that he could go, anything he could do. He regretted not having brought is favorite sunscreen and bug spray, and he was getting hungry. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His father had talked about disowning him for years, but Charles wasn’t quite sure he’d do it.
He had nothing with him but the clothes on his back. He was extremely hungry, and he was starting to stink. Suddenly a vision came to him from down the street. Really, it should have been a mirage, but it wasn’t. Miz’s family was having a neighborhood pool party. He could tell because the family’s pool was only second in size to the family’s house. There were multiple people gathered around it, and there was a fully stocked food table beside it.
Charles squinted his eyes briefly, looking at the people in attendance. Over to the right, he saw a tall, blonde girl with red shorts with white trim and a white t-shirt.
“Karen?” said Charles. “What’s Karen doing here?”
Karen had been Charles’s crush for at least a year. She had been recently selected as head cheerleader. Charles had wanted to go to a party with her, but he had neve found the courage to attend one she was at. Everything about her seemed so…unreachable. Charles’s foot started to hurt as he walked up to the house, looking either way. The students at the pool party looked over at him, many stopping in their tracks.
When Charles got up to the gate, he instinctively grabbed onto the bars of the gate as if he were a penitent, looking for freedom. Someone’s summer playlist was playing on the outdoor speakers. Suddenly, one of the girls came up to the gate. Backstabbing Jellinen. She walked up to him, looking contrite, but having no personality.
“What do you want, booger butt?” said Jellinen, always so articulate. “Oh my God.”
“I want what you want,” said Charles. “That, and some food. Give me a bratwurst.”
“You don’t need a bratwurst. You’re enough of a brat all by yourself.”
“So, you heard?”
“Everyone on our side of Texas has heard. Your parents practically wrote it on the sky. All our parents told us that we were to have no contact with you whatsoever. You’re too much of a flight risk.”
“I see. I see.”
“Oh, and by the way, Karen is getting private tennis lessons from Brian Ashley, starting next week. They’re going to be slapping tennis balls together while you’re strumming on garbage cans. And don’t think I forgot what you did to my eyeliner last week. I owe you!”
“So it is,” said Charles.
Charles moved away and decided to go towards the cemetery to see his grandfather’s grave. His grandfather had been an electrician, as well as a woodworking hobbyist. He’d completed many projects in his life. There were many flags at the cemetery, each representing a different country from which the interned could have originated. It was hard enough that he couldn’t speak more than one language.
Charles walked through the cemetery. With each step he took in the grass, he felt two scoops of dirt being piled onto his head. After a few minutes of watching, he finally found it. His grandfather’s grave. It was a rather big, ornate gravestone. And well-prepared.
The quote on the front of the gravestone read: PAIN IS LIFE.
Charles stood there just looking at the gravestone. He didn’t know what happened to his grandfather after he died. It was a painful thought. Was it painful? Did he suffer? What was it like on the other side?
Charles looked around. He didn’t know what he should do or where he should go. It had been twenty-four hours since he had last eaten. He’d drunk some water from a garden hose a few hours prior. Life wasn’t working out in his favor. Then, he saw it. There was an exposed grave with a rather large crack in it, large enough for a human to fit inside. Charles then began to realize that he was supremely, overwhelmingly sleepy. He’d been walking all night without having any rest for his bones.
He had to figure out some way to get some sleep if he was going to survive. He went up to the grave, twisted his body to fit the hole, and climbed in. It was rather cold that night, but the grave warmed him. He could feel each wave of heat being reflected from his body to the walls of the inside of the grave and then back to him. It was almost toasty inside. He felt sorry for all the others who would be sleeping rough. He’d found his grave. Where would they find theirs? The next morning, Charles was able to find an emergency shelter and food.