Our latest dispatch from Janet:
I’ve never written in a cemetery, but I’m drawn to the idea, especially after reading Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book.” So why haven’t I done it?
I admit I’m a bit intimidated to write amongst the dead. Even walking through a graveyard in the daytime calls up the imagined lives of the buried and their surviving families (even if those families passed on centuries ago).
Are there stories there? Sure. Are there distractions? Absolutely. Still, I imagine sitting in the shade with my notebook, absorbing the peace broken only by the chirrup of small birds and the far-off drone of a lawnmower. At least, I thought that scene was peaceful, until some scientist revealed that the lovely fresh-cut grass smell resulted from millions of grass blades screaming in agony as a thresher whacked them down to size.
This cemetery seems peaceful, though.
I’m going to write there.
Maybe one of the residents will tell me their story.
PS. Don’t be surprised by the bones you see poking from the cliff next to this graveyard. That’s where cannonballs hit the castle during the Revolt of Catalonia from 1640 to 1652. Attackers destroyed a small section of the castle along with the original cemetery. Unfortunately, any excavation work could undermine the castle’s foundation, so recovery and reburial is not easy.
ONLY ONE MORE DAY FOR THE OPEN EARLY BIRD SUBMISSION!
Here’s another moment from Janet:
There’s a stillness atop Sant Bartomeu hill that settles my bones and calms my brain. At 998 meters above sea level, I lean against a centuries-old stone wall, part of the Castell de Llaés, and look across the fields below. Thirty-nine km to the right is a second hill of 1025 meters, where I can see remains of the castle of Besora as it sits alone with its past. In the other direction, at 961 meters, sits the medieval remains of Castell de Milany. With the slightest effort, I lower a cellophane sheet over the scene and add people in tunics walking with horses wearing baroque saddles. A second overlay adds dusk and wispy tendrils of cloud to the picture. Torches flare along the castle walls to both sides of me, and the glow of a central fire, ready to send messages across the gap between them as night descends. -Janet K. Smith