The Monument, a short story from First Lies, by T.F. Torrey

from First Lies by T.F. Torrey

It was August eleventh, and despite the heat, despite the humidity, despite the insects, despite the threat of rain, they flocked to the Little Grove Cemetery to see the monument. They knew that tonight there would be no rain. In Little Grove it never rained on the night of August eleventh. And tonight would be no exception.

They brought blankets and lawn chairs and coolers filled with soft drinks and beer and they arranged these articles on the ground near their cars. Little Grove Cemetery is situated on several hills, a small hill surrounded by several larger ones, and the monument sits atop the small central hill. A paved road winds through the cemetery, and the grass beside the road was by eight o'clock thick with parked cars and people sitting around sipping from cans.

People talked in low voices while more cars made their way along the road looking for a place to sit. Some people began parking their cars out of view of the monument and taking their things up on the broad empty south hill. Some young people climbed a few of the trees, to sit on the lower limbs, to watch the monument.

At about eight-thirty the sun began to go down, creating a dazzling sunset of fiery orange. The sky was perfectly clear. Mercury and Venus became slowly visible with the setting sun.

By nine the cemetery was getting pretty full. A policeman wandered among the people to make sure that they were abiding by applicable laws. The cemetery was abuzz with the soft conversation of the people.

By nine-thirty the sun was gone and the stars were out. With the darkness a tense anticipation began to fill the cemetery. The people on the north hill watching the monument could see behind the monument Mars and Jupiter blazing low on the horizon. The full moon crept above the trees to the east. A brilliant panorama of stars and constellations graced the sky. The air was tainted with the odor of freshly cut grass.

At ten o'clock a representative of the cemetery who had been monitoring the flow of people into it closed the big iron-wrought gates across the entry road and put out a lit sign that announced that the cemetery could hold no more visitors. The sign made no one return home, though. Those refused entry to the cemetery made their way to the park downtown, where they still were allowed an adequate view of the monument and the sky above.

A few journalists were in the crowd, both in the cemetery and in the town's park, and they spoke now and then in low tones into pocket cassette recorders or scribbled notes into note pads. Many scientists as well as journalists and laymen arranged photographic equipment around the monument. Some people produced telescopes or binoculars and prepared them for use. One man set up a directional microphone pointed at the tip of the monument. Everywhere people prepared for the main event.

The monument is a smooth marble structure some forty feet high, two feet wide and square at the bottom, tapering to a point at the top. The monument stands erect toward Heaven. Surrounding the monument is a low concrete wall which forms a square, thirty feet along each side, with the monument in the exact center. Inside the square are the graves of the old minister and his family. The monument and the square wall and the contained graves were first. The cemetery was built around them.

At eleven forty-five a hush fell over the crowd. People began watching the monument through their observation devices. Parents called their children close by. The policeman stopped patrolling and tipped his cap back to watch the monument. Scientists and journalists set their recording devices into action. All eyes were riveted to the monument. The crowd held its breath.

At eleven fifty-five it began.

A blue light appeared at the tip of the monument and moved Heavenward. The pure blue light followed a jagged path straight up, forking here and there, moving like slow blue lightning. There was no sound. Even the night animals were quiet. The silence was deafening. The blue light glowed on the faces and shone in the eyes of all the observers. The slow blue lightning moved upward to eternity, forking and rejoining, irregular in its path, regular in its direction. The light flashed and hove, slowly streaking upward from the tip of the monument to infinity. For a full five minutes it continued, forming a brilliant spectacle in the sky above the monument. Then, at midnight, as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. The beam of blue light stopped appearing from the tip of the monument, and the already ejected lightning slowly moved upward, becoming smaller and shorter with the distance. Finally it was just a tiny line, and then only a blue point among the white points which were the stars. Then, at three minutes after midnight, it vanished completely, leaving the observers once again bathed in the light of the stars.

A pair of hands broke the silence, applauding. They were joined by another and another and soon Little Grove was filled with the sound of clapping hands.

Then the applause stopped, and the cemetery attendant opened the gates, and the policeman straightened his cap, and the people collected their things and went home.