Monster

What’s on my mind?
Monster.
When Himself and I recently stumbled across a grave on a windswept mountain, we also stumbled across a mystery. 
Monster. 
Like the loud, slow tick of a clock, I heard it in my head.
Monster. 
I wanted to know! I wanted to know! I wanted to know who or what this was! Mother-in-law? Pit bull? Hit man? Missing person? And then I looked closer, and stopped making jokes.
The words “R.I.P. MONSTER” were painted in blue on a heavy rock at the top of the grave.
I felt certain this was no pet’s grave. This was someone or something whose remains couldn’t be buried in a cemetery - someone deeply loved, despite being a ...
Monster.
It’s none of my business, but does it not seem unusual to find such a grave atop a mountain?  You’d probably need to know it was there, to find it. Respect for the someone or something buried there prevents my naming its location.
Monster.
The small grave is newly cemented over. Cemented over! Heavy rocks ring it - not rocks from the area, but landscaper’s rocks carried to the site, as likely was Monster himself. The rocks are also cemented in. No one does that for a pet’s grave. Whatever or whoever this was (is!), I suspect the grave diggers didn’t want it to leave, to be found, or to be dug up.
Monster.
Artificial flowers cover a portion of the grave. A heart made of cat’s-eye marbles set in concrete mark it, but the writing and symbols on the grave appear to have been done by one or more adults or teens. 
It’s unlikely an older person did this. An older person couldn’t have carried those heavy rocks up the slope. An older person wouldn’t have placed a plastic-wrapped sealed envelope (presumably containing a note) on the grave. 
The envelope reads: “To Monster.” It’s from “Facebook Freinds of Monster.” An older person might not have misspelled the word as “Freinds.” I’d never open that note. I hope no one does. If Monster’s hangin’ ’round, perhaps he’s already read it.
Monster.
Drawn on the envelope is a broken heart with a tear drop - the same image gold-painted on the cement, with the addition of  “4 EVER”.  
A part of me says: “Report this!” Another part says: “Leave it alone!” And a small, niggling part is afraid of what lies beneath.
Monster.

© Nicole Parton, 2019

PS: Although my new book, The Butterfly Box, is finished, plenty of  “technical things” remain for its submission, so I’m not writing regularly yet.