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In that ancient cemetery, with centuries of existence and with very rare visitors, since the bodies deposited in them, for various reasons have been forgotten, a tomb stands out among all.
It is at the end of the place, in the left corner of it and what makes it special is the marble monument that unlike others does not age, but remains prominent as if it had been erected in recent hours.
The same shows a woman with a long tunic adjusted her body, seated in a room with characteristics of archaic throne and an expression of pain, guessed by her closed eyes, the rictus in the lips and her arms extended to the sides.
On one side, in line with his left hand, a candle remains lit, and the mysterious thing about this is that it is not consumed or extinguished by rain or snow, as if it were fed on air as fuel and the wax that makes up its round structure is infinite.
At his side the corpse of a tree keeps him company, as a guardian exterminated by time and drought, however his dry trunk and branches without leaves remain erect, supporting the seasons.
Around them other stones without sculptures, resemble soldiers fallen in the war and seem to accompany the bed of the unknown or unknown inhabitant of the mausoleum.
All the caretakers of the place who have been there for years have been curious about such a strange sepulchre but none have lived to tell about it, since visiting it is synonymous with imminent death and is the reason why no one approaches it.
It took many sacrifices for this to be known, many damned innocents dazzled by the beauty of the bright white marble that makes it eye-catching to the curious.
A century ago, after a storm flooded the place, a religious rescued the papers found in the old offices of the cemetery and among them a parchment with trembling letters, written in blood where it read: "In this place is the cenacle of death, the place where she will rest when she can be defeated.
Everyone who visits it will die, as I will in a few moments." Next was the address of the mysterious tomb.
The first reaction was incredulity, but before the truthfulness of what had been warned, the story went from mouth to mouth and people stopped visiting the cemetery, for fear of going on to add to the list of those who had already fallen, like the mouse in front of the boiling pot.
An attempt was made to demolish the cemetery, but no one succeeded, everyone died in the attempt.
In the end it was lonely, waiting for the last corpse to get there.
Will death itself ever die to end the curse of the place?