By Peter S. Beagle
A kindly raven brings nutrients to and is the significant other of a guy who has taken safe haven in an deserted mausoleum in a brand new York urban cemetery for nineteen years.
Title: A wonderful & deepest Place
Author: Beagle, Peter S.
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Publication Date: 2007/05/28
Number of Pages: 264
Binding variety: PAPERBACK
Library of Congress: bl2007019271
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Additional info for A Fine and Private Place
I like to be here when they come, to calm them and ease their spirits. Someone to talk to, you might say. People have gone mad looking for someone to talk to. We talk, or we sit and play chess—I hope you play—or I read to them. Very little things, Michael, and only for a little while. Soon they drift away, and where they go I cannot follow. They don't need me then; they don't need anyone, and this pleases me because most of them spent their lives trying not to need. "So I keep them company for a while, these friends of mine.
Believe me, I'm sorry. " She sniffed, a full-sinused, healthy sniff. " "Some things last a long time," Michael said. He spoke loudly and clearly, but he did not shout. Not until Mrs. Klapper turned away from him. Then he yelled the words, wishing that he could feel them clawing their way out of his throat. "Be quiet, Michael," said Mr. Rebeck hoarsely. Mrs. Klapper came a few steps closer. " "Nothing," Mr. Rebeck said. " "Sure," said Mrs. Klapper. "Some things you remember. Like a husband, or an operation.
It was laid out carefully, with winding streets named Fairview Avenue, and Central Avenue, and Oakland Avenue, and Larch Street, and Chestnut Street, and Elm Street. One street led to the Italian section of the cemetery, another to the German section, a third to the Polish, and so on, for the Yorkchester Cemetery was nonsectarian but nervous. The raven had come in the back way, and so he flew down Central Avenue, holding the baloney in his claws. The stretch of more or less simple headstones gradually began to give way to Old Rugged Crosses; the crosses in turn gave way to angels, the angels to weeping angels, and these finally to mausoleums.
A Fine and Private Place by Peter S. Beagle