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Our Lady of Fandom, Sunday

Most of Carter's efforts today were in the graveyard.

The church was as clean as he could make it, and while some of the cushions and other textiles still needed repairing, it broke his heart more than a little to think of doing that while leaving the graveyard unattended to.

There was so much weeding to do, which was quite natural, after being left alone so long, but it was the garbage that had either been tossed about by the wind to land on peoples graves (he preferred to think it was this) or had been left deliberately, and carelessly, about that got to him.

So he was out there, cleaning it up, carefully going grave-by-grave to make certain they were all as well maintained as they could be.

Even if their loved ones were gone, after all, someone ought to care about those who'd been left behind.

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But politely, please.

Who'd be delighted to converse!

The graves, at least, probably weren't in terrible repair. A few of the ghosts had tapped Norman in since his arrival on the island, asking him to do whatever repairs he was capable of. Granted, his knowledge in that area wasn't the greatest, but he'd done his best all the same.

Today he was stopping by with a few roses - there were some anniversaries in the graveyard today, some of the ghosts who had been around the longest had been going on for weeks about it, and so without any living family left to leave them flowers, he was taking it upon himself to do so.

He paused on his way in, giving the man a startled blink and then a polite nod of his head. That one? That one was not a ghost.

He wasn't even the slightest bit ghostly.

Carter looked up from bagging a few empty soda cans, and smiled to see a visitor. Since he didn't recognize the lad, he assumed he was here to visit someone in the cemetery.

"Oh, hello," he said pleasantly. "Please, don't let me disturb you."

Norman blinked, and then nodded, making his way toward one of the oldest stones in the yard. When he got there, he crouched down to leave the roses in front of it, and then settled back to start a kind of... hushed conversation with the ghost who resided there.

It was hard not to feel weird about it, even on the island, around strangers.

Carter had truly not expected the lad to go to one of the oldest graves, but he let him be, not wishing to intrude.

Perhaps a descendant? It didn't really matter, he was glad someone cared, all the same.

He went back to his trash picking, noting that a few of the graves had had some rudimentary repairs to them, as he went.

"And," Norman said, still talking to the ghost in question, "I brought that glue you asked for. The kind that'll hold concrete. So we can mark your anniversary in style."

He crouched down to pick up the chunk of stone that had fallen free from the headstone, holding it up. And then he fished around in his pocket for the glue.

"Moment of truth? Want to say a few words or something before I stick it back on?"

Carter... was not trying to listen in, he really wasn't, but he couldn't help overhearing.

He smiled as he worked, not entirely certain what to make of the lad's conversation, but equally certain it was none of his business.

Though he supposed he knew now, perhaps, who had been attempting to fix some of the stones.

Norman was quiet for a while while the ghost did, in fact, say a few words. And then he very carefully smeared the chunk of rock in glue and stuck it to the stone again, pulling out a large rubber band so that he didn't have to stand there overnight to hold it in place.

Stone, set. Band, settled, and Norman was straightening up again, dusting off his hands on his pants.

"Happy anniversary, Eunice. I'll see you next time?" A pause. "Yeah, I think I can get you yellow ones next time. No, no, I don't mind."

None of what the lad was doing really made any sense to Carter, but as he got ready to leave, Carter straightened up.

He... didn't really know what he wanted to say, but he wanted to say... something.

Norman turned just in time to see the man straighten up again, and he kind of froze.

...

And lifted a hand to wave. Awkwardly. Kind of like a deer in the headlights, in fact.

And Carter immediately felt bad.

"I apologize for startling you," he said, sincerely and honestly. "I didn't mean to."

"No, it's fine. It's just... usually I'm the only living person wandering around here," Norman replied, lowering his hand still a touch awkwardly. "I wasn't expecting someone would be here."

"I've taken up residence in the Church," Carter explained, gesturing with his bag at the, well, at the church. "And my duties there are not only for the living."

"Which is why you're cleaning up the graveyard," Norman said, frowning faintly. "I try to keep on top of it when I can. So, um. I guess thank you for that?"

From the ghosts, who were most appreciative.

"I'd do it even if it wasn't my duty," he admitted, wondering at the frown. "But you're welcome. I'm Pastor Carter."

"Norman," Norman offered, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, and then waving a hand at... nothing in particular... before looking back at Carter. "I, um. I'm kind of out here a lot. I'll try not to get in the way, though."

"How could you be in the way?" Carter asked gently. "I am glad to see that someone visits the graves here."

"They get lonely."

... Norman didn't immediately facepalm at himself for that reply, but it was a near thing.

Need to get something off your chest?

[All threads in the confessional are NFB as a matter of course.]

Sleeeeeepy.

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Our Lady of Fandom, Sunday

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Confessional

OOC