West Norwood Wonder
"Cemetery guide Ama leads tours through West Norwood's Gothic splendor. When horror writer Marcus joins her twilight walk, she shows him that death isn't the only thing that can take your breath away."
The West Norwood Cemetery was Marcus's favorite research spot—Victorian Gothic glory, famous graves, and atmosphere you couldn't buy. The twilight tours were new, and the guide was captivating.
Ama was Ghanaian-British, her thick curves wrapped in flowing black dress, her voice perfect for telling tales of the dead. She moved among the graves like she belonged there—not morbidly, but intimately, like the deceased were old friends.
"You're the horror writer," she said after the other tourists left. "I've read your books."
"What did you think?"
"You understand death. But you don't understand what makes life worth it." She gestured at the evening cemetery. "Stay. Let me teach you."
They walked among the graves as darkness fell, her hand occasionally finding his.
"Death isn't scary," she said. "Death is inevitable. What's scary is not living first."
"Are you living?"
"I'm trying." She stopped beside an ancient mausoleum. "I spend my days with the dead. Sometimes I forget I'm not one of them."
"You're very much alive." He touched her face. "I can see it."
"Then help me feel it."
The mausoleum was private, hidden from paths, cold stone and carved angels. She pressed against the wall and pulled him close.
"Make me feel alive, writer. Give me something to believe in."
He kissed her—warm against cold stone—and felt her thick body respond. Her dress came down easily, pooling like darkness.
"Here? Now?"
"What better place? Surrounded by those who can't anymore?" She wrapped her legs around him. "Live for both of us."
He took her against the mausoleum wall, surrounded by the dead, feeling very much alive. Her thick body was warm in the cool evening air, her moans mingling with the sound of wind in cypress trees.
"Yes... more... don't stop..."
She came with a cry that echoed off stone, beautiful and defiant. He followed, and they slid to the ground amid fallen leaves.
"Now that's living," she breathed.
"Your next book," she said later, walking him to the gates. "Write about this. About life happening in death's shadow."
"Would you let me use you as inspiration?"
"I'd be your muse. Your guide." She kissed him slowly. "Your reason to keep exploring dark places."
"When can we explore again?"
"Tomorrow. Midnight. Meet me at the angel monument." Her smile was moonlight. "I have so many secrets to share."
His West Norwood wonder had taught him something no research could. And Marcus had found the story he'd been waiting to tell.