Grave Fictions

If there is a cemetery nearby, I will find it. I am pulled in as if via a magnet, dragging me between the poles of living and dead. Vastness and stillness. Peace and sadness.

While many think cemeteries are macabre or creepy, I see only the beauty buried within. Cemeteries are the best museums, holding secrets and tales of a place, of its people, of its past, present, and future. All we have to do is unearth them.

When not roaming a cemetery, I am a professor of public administration studying death management. I decided to start Grave Fictions to release pent-up creativity, writing stories inspired by my cemetery travels and adventures. All the writing here is fiction, as I use the grave photos I have taken to inspire a story about the person buried beneath.

The photo of me is in the Devil’s Chair in Cassadaga Cemetery. Legend has it you bring the Devil a beer, and in this instance the pickle brew - notes of sour and brine splashing on my tongue - might bring out the Devil’s dirty side. Or perhaps the adventurous one.