The three teenage boys had spent a cold frightening night in the Lawson family crypt. This long forgotten, overgrown crypt in the corner of the graveyard had been their own private den. The place they drank cider and read girlie mags, smoked dope and fantasised about their futures. Filling them with models and fast cars, bank accounts stuffed with cash, and travel to the beaches of free love.
Cathy Lawson had listened to their young tales with interest and fascination she liked the way their eyes twinkled with excitement and their laughter.
Cathy`s coffin sat unnoticed on the shelf in the musty tomb, the boys had wondered at her fathers coffin when they first entered the crypt but not hers. She sat lonely on the shelf much like she had in life.
As the boys drank and talked, listened to their music and shared their last cigarette's. Cathy moved the stones in the graveyard. Cathy would keep these boys just for herself, she would listen to their stories, hopes and dreams, until they joined her on the shelf.