The bugs swarmed us, prickling and itching at the surface of my skin. The sun, coming down stronger every minute, was threatening to give us all sunburns. The tombs, some standing tall, others hidden down low, were neatly organized in rows of uneven grass. A light breeze passed every few seconds, playing with the leaves and cooling off the fire on our skin.

“That’s so sad,” someone gasped beside me.

I looked forward, looking for whatever the person meant. After peeking between bodies and over heads, the worn statue of a dog came into view. Effort had gone to its face, etched with small details that made it so realistic. Its face looked hopeful and longing, waiting for something that could come any minute. It lay in the unforgiving rays, on top of a gravestone that looked of age.

“This one is a favorite,” the tour guide spoke up.

She, like every else, stared thoughtfully down at the dog, gathering the details of its story. Even though the sun was beating down on us, we waited for her to begin.

AUTHOR
Laura L.
9th Grade

Boston & Beyond
Journal

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