Ninteen

Anna double-checked the map on her phone, she’d thought walking between her best friend’s house and the supermarket would be easy, but she’d been lost in three turns, she couldn’t believe how confusing the town her best friend had moved to was. Once she was happy she was on the right route, she went back to checking the text that had just arrived.

“Did you manage to get some wine for tomorrow?”

Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she replied to her best friend. “Yes, I have a bottle of sparkling and a bottle of white. Also, a small vodka to stash in my bag.”

Anna glanced up at the path ahead and noticed she was walking by an old cemetery. She walked quicker, keen to get past it as fast as possible. She shivered, feeling ice crawl down her back the further along the fence she got. She was walking so fast now she was nearly running, glancing over she saw the entry gate up ahead. She drew level with the gate, then veered off from the footpath where she had wanted to go and turned left, pushing the gate open.

She tried to stop, as she knew she didn’t want to open the gate, but her body wasn’t taking orders from her head anymore, it was on autopilot.

Once she was through the gate, she looked left and right along the rows of gravestones and then turned 180 degrees to walk back out the gate. Her eyesight blurred for a moment, and she found herself walking along the row of graves closest to the fence.

Her eyes were drawn to the names on the gravestones. Every name was familiar, she saw the names of her grandparents, mum, dad, brothers, sister, aunts, uncles, and friends. All their names were on the gravestones with the correct birthdate except for the year. These people were all born 100 years before her family and friends. The date of deaths and the ages at which they died were engraved on the stones. Died at 45, died at 65, died at 80.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her blood froze when she came to the final stone in the row, it was her name. Anna Frances Mulligan. Born 19th June 1900, died 18th June 1920, age 19 years old. She didn’t linger there, and she rushed back towards the gate to leave; this was freaking her out.

She turned towards the gate to grab the handle, but her vision blurred again, and she was walking along the 2nd row of gravestones, all looking older than the ones she’d already looked at. Tears started to pool in her eyes as she read the names. It was all identical to the first row, but the years were 100 years earlier. She closed her eyes as she came to the last stone, standing there breathing deeply, trying to get the courage to look.

Anna Frances Mulligan. Born 19th June 1800, died 18th June 1820, age 19 years old.

She didn’t even try and leave the cemetery this time, she just walked straight to the next row and to the stone with her name on. It was harder to make out the writing on this one due to its age. She brushed some moss aside.

Anna Frances Mulligan. Born 19th June 1700, died 18th June 1720, age 19 years old

Her eyes blurred with tears, and she wiped them away with her sleeve, walking with determination to the next row.

Anna Frances Mulligan. Born 19th June 1600, died 18th June 1620, age 19 years old.

She heard the text arrive on her phone but ignored it as she went to the next row. These were so old she could barely make out any of the letters on them, but she was sure she could make out the A of her name and 19 engraved.

Once she’d checked every stone the panic she’d managed to suppress kicked in with full force. She sprinted for the gate. This time nothing stopped her from leaving, she pulled it open and rushed out onto the street. She started to sprint away from the cemetery. Turning left and right running as fast as she could, desperately trying to put some distance between her and it.

Her lungs felt like they were going to explode when she finally stopped, slumping over with her hands on her knees, gulping in air. When her breathing finally calmed, she looked at her surroundings to see she was totally lost.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to get the maps open again and saw the text waiting from her best friend.

“Good call on the vodka, we can toast you turning 20 at midnight. We are going to party so hard.”

Anna’s eyes filled with tears as the words from the gravestones danced in front of her eyes. 18th June, aged 19 years old.

She just needed to get home, she just needed to sleep, this must be a dream, or a stroke or hallucination.

She was so distracted she didn’t hear the warning honk of the horn; she didn’t hear the squeal of the breaks. She felt the impact, she felt herself fly into the air, then everything went black.