Bad Moon Rising

I have burned my tomorrows

And I stand inside today

At the edge of the future

And my dreams all fade away

I faced my destroyer I was ambushed by a lie

And you judged me once for falling

This wounded heart will rise

And burn my shadow away And burn my shadow away

Burn my Shadow-Unkle

Five people stand in a cemetery on a foggy morning, looking down at three graves and saying nothing. An old woman steps forward and lays a hand on the middle tombstone, tears running down her cheeks in a steady stream as she remembers her dear friends and the father of her child. Edgar and his rare smiles and macabre humor; Emmett and his protective nature; Sarah with her sarcasm and strength—strength she had gotten from her older brother and had given to her three children. Andrew and Elizabeth comfort their younger sister while trying not to cry themselves; the woman's own son, Edgar, bowing his head and giving the family room.

Sarah had died three years after Rosalie was born, Tuberculosis hitting her hard just as it had many of the women in her life. Emmett had passed away only two days ago at the age of eighty-three, a grandfather of two children and the godfather of another. The old woman knew she would be next, her grave on the other side of Edgar's as it should be. He loved her in life and she loved him in death; it was only right they'd be buried next to each other. She doesn't notice as the others begin to disperse until her niece calls for her. "What is it," She asks, looking at the young woman over her shoulder.

"I said we were leaving." Rosalie pauses as she takes in the old woman's features, a sadness entering her eyes that hadn't been there before. "Are you okay, Aunt Emily?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart." But she wasn't, she hadn't been for forty-three years since she learned of her sweet Edgar's death. She would keep moving though, a Hamilton always looked forward just as the Poe's and Fields' had; and she is all three, joined in a large family for however long she has left in this world.