Winter 1948 • Vol. X No. 1 FictionJanuary 1, 1948 |

The Vault

We never drove out to the old City Graveyard except to Memorial Day Exercises. It was down by the river on the edge of town where the niggers lived and nobody was buried there any more. The soldiers were buried there, and Indian Bill, and a parcel of babies they found on the Court House steps, but nobody else. It's a right pretty old place, Mama said. I wish we drove out here oftener. Papa was already waiting in the car. Mama handed me the empty flower basket and turned round for a minute, shading her eyes with her handkerchief. Then I opened the door for her and she got in the back seat. I got in front with Papa and held the basket. Wait for Sister, Mama said. Papa backed over on the grass to let some of the other cars get by, and waited for Sister. You can't compare it to Shady Grove Cemetery, he said. The flat graves were on a steep hillside, covered mostly with pines that had been planted. There weren't many tombstones, just metal markers, and the scatter

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We never drove out to the old City Graveyard except to Memorial Day Exercises. It was down by the river on the edge of town where the niggers lived and […]

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We never drove out to the old City Graveyard except to Memorial Day Exercises. It was down by the river on the edge of town where the niggers lived and […]

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